


Forward...into Dark Eternity

by RavenSinead



Series: Transient Eternity [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Final Battle, Last words, The Dark Ritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 49
Words: 86,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenSinead/pseuds/RavenSinead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time has come to end the Blight, to face the Archdemon in all its fury. Life, death, and love hang in the balance. What will the outcome be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Comforting Lies

**Author's Note:**

> All characters and settings belong to BioWare. I own nothing.

**Salem Cousland**

    "You should eat something."

     I glanced up, looking at the wary smile on my brother's face as he handed me a plate heaped full with food. 

     "Thank you." I said, almost absent as I turned back, looking down on the courtyard below. 

     Men and women scurried about, practicing at arms, loading supplies, rushing in a flurry of activity to prepare for what would happen next. Rhythmic clanging echoed from the smithies as swords were forged and repaired, as armor was fitted. Thick, choking smoke clung in the still air, melding with the heavy fog, reminding me of what I knew all too well. 

      _Death is coming. On wings of fire and the cries of the innocent, our fate is fast approaching._

     "You seem troubled, Salem." Fergus said, relaxing against the parapets, keeping his eyes on me, away from the bustle and clamor. "Since you regained consciousness, since our arrival, you have said less than two sentences joined together."

     "I have a great deal weighing on my mind." I repeated the answer that had become rote. 

     The simple words had dissuaded the worried gazes and anxious inquiries. It had given me what scraps of peace were left. The world as we knew it was soon to shift, soon to be changed in a way none of us before could fathom. We prepared for war, for it was on the immediate horizon. What we could not prepare for was what might come after. 

     "You are not alone in that." Fergus glared at me until I began to eat. "I have questions for you as well, sister."

      _Questions I do not wish to answer,_ I thought, dreading this moment. I had prayed that time would be too scarce to...dredge up past wounds.  _But he is my brother. He has a right to know. He deserves to ask his questions and have them answered._

     "Ask of me anything." I offered. 

      _I give you that permission, brother...though the rest of this damned world seems to believe that it has the same rights. Ask of me anything, tax me in blood, shield them from darkness...I am not made of earth and steel. My heartbeat is not the steady cadence of war drums. I am as human as they...equally flawed, equally weary, equally frightened, and weak._

     Fergus sighed, his brow creased, his lips thinned, and my shoulders knotted. I knew what he wished to ask. I had slain our greatest enemy. I had killed the man who had slaughtered Fergus' wife and child...and our parents. 

      _Not this, dear Maker. Any questions but these..._

     "Salem," he kept his voice low, restrained, taut with emotions that were not permitted nobles and warriors, "my...my wife...my son...how?"

     Bile rose in my throat as I remembered Howe's sick description of the manner in which he had mutilated my nephew and defiled my brother's wife. Cold anger and expended rage burned fierce and new inside my heart. Even so, I schooled my face into a mask and molded my voice into a lie. 

      _Something he will believe. Something he will cling to._

     "It was quick." I whispered, gazing into the setting sun, wishing it would pierce through my eyes and erase my memories. "Painless. Howe's orders were...were to execute, not to torture."

      _This...this is my gift to you, Fergus. Peace. Let me alleviate your guilt and your anger with this lie. It is the sole lie I shall ever tell you, I swear it. You cannot hammer recriminations into your spirit, for vengeance has already been taken. The road of our dark past has nothing for you. Look to your future, my brother...as I look to mine, grim though it may be._

     "The bodies were burned." Fergus said, his tone cold and lifeless. "Father and Mother. Orianna and...Oren." my brother heaved a sigh. "My men and I were ambushed as we were leaving to join King Cailan at Ostagar. Howe's soldiers," he snorted, "cheap weapons, substandard armor...they quickly lost. One of them told me what had happened at Highever and I...I lost my mind, Salem."

     "How so?" I finished the food my brother had brought to me, setting the plate aside on the ramparts.

     I studied the walls of Redcliffe castle, building their like around my heart. I had locked the past away, where it belonged, until I might come to terms with it once again. Howe was dead. That was all that mattered. 

     "I did not join the armies at Ostagar. Forgive me, sister. Had I known you were there, had I known that you survived, I would have made all haste but...but I thought you dead. I thought all was lost. And in my rage, I abandoned my king."

     "What did you do?" I asked, recalling the moment I heard the news, that Fergus Cousland had been attacked, his forces massacred by the darkspawn...the man himself dead. 

      _More of Loghain's trickery._

     I attempted to quell my hatred for the now-dead traitor. It did not seem right to loathe and harbor anger against a man who no longer existed in this world. He could cause no more dissention. He could stir no more strife. But I could not cease hating him. He had taken too much from me. My family, my health, and my sanity. 

     "I took what was left of my armies to the surrounding villages, conscripting local militia. When that was finished we...we took back Highever. I am not proud to say that I attacked my own countrymen, Salem. It goes against every value father tried to instill in us, but we had been  _wronged._ And then...to return, to find father and mother gone, my wife and..." his composure cracked and he buried his head in his hands, weeping in the company of the setting sun, "...my boy..."

     "I understand." I wrapped my arms around him, thankful for the lie I had told. "It is all right, Fergus. All is not as it should be, but it is well. We have one another, and I swear to you, I will end this Blight and give you the chance to start your life afresh. Keep faith."

     "Keep faith?" Fergus muttered, drawing out of my embrace. "Can you tell me how, Salem? I look at you...your face, your hands...there are scars there where before none existed. Your companions told me fantastic stories of ogres and dragons, the terrors of the Deep Roads. How is it that you are standing in front of me, keeping  _faith?"_

     "I have those to lift me when I cannot drag myself from the ground." I smiled, missing the comfort of Leliana at my side. 

     The moment Wynne had announced me recovered from the injuries at the Landsmeet, my life had become a flurry of planning and conferences. Days were filled with training, nights with briefings, and I would stay awake into the bleak hours of the morning with Alistair, poring over maps. I had lived, eaten, drank, and breathed strategy...I had neglected my lover and my light. 

      _This is something that must soon be remedied._

     "Those who lift you?" he raised his brows. "My eyes may never have been as keen as yours, sister, but I did see the conspicuous absence of your signet ring." Fergus smiled, falling into old mannerisms and teasing me. 

     "And I am certain your ancient, age-clouded eyes managed to see the hand it now resides on?" I asked, quirking a single eyebrow, a skill of my mother's that Fergus had never perfected. 

     "I  _did_." he inclined his head in affirmation. "Do you mean to tell me that I shall  _never_ be an uncle?"

     I stared at him, stone-faced. Our eyes locked. As if on cue, we began laughing until we felt our sides would split. 

     Fergus placed his hand on his chest and strutted on the parapet, swaying his hips, striking the perfect image of our maternal grandmother. 

     "A noble marriage with  _ **no**_ progeny?" he squawked in a high falsetto and I collapsed to my knees, laughing so that I cried. "This is simply  _unconscionable!"_

     "Unfair!" I gasped. "How...how  _dare_ you!?"

     My brother glared down at me with eyes full of mock-disapproval. "Do you not  _understand!?_ " he squawked again. "You are  _responsible_ for the continuation..."

     "Fergus!" I begged, holding my ribs. "Stop! For the love of the Maker,  _stop_!"

     My brother chuckled and helped me to my feet. After a moment, our smiles weakened, then faded away completely. That was what mirth and joy had become. Something fleeting. Something precious and almost gone. 

     Fergus broke the silence. "I am happy for you, Salem." he said. "It takes immense hope and...and belief...to find love in times such as these. Cherish it while you may. I know all too well...how soon such blessings can depart."

     I laid my arm about his shoulders and squeezed. "All of life will resolve itself, eventually. Surely existence cannot be crafted from pain alone. Speaking of pain, brother, if I may...I have a question to ask of you."

     "Of course." he smiled and I watched the moon rising behind him. 

     It bathed the earth in a gentle glow and I lost my thoughts for the merest of moments, transfixed by something pure and beautiful. So much beauty had been stolen from the world in the wake of the Blight. I wondered if its full measure would ever return. 

     "Did...did father ever speak to you of his aversion to healing magic?" I inquired, asking the question that had weighed on me since I had spoken to Anora in Eamon's Denerim estate. 

     Fergus nodded. "Yes, he did. He spoke to me of it on the day Oren was born." his voice grew bitter. "It is our family's dark, very well-hidden secret."

     "Do go on."

     "Well," my brother cleared his throat, trying to remember happier times, "in ages past..."


	2. Haunting Visions

**Leliana**

    I stood outside the smithy, listening to the rhythmic ringing of man forging steel, looking to the moon and pleading for serenity. Under my breath, I hummed an old tune, feeling cloistered by the walls of the castle, missing the open sky, the warm, welcoming campfire, my lute, and the simple pleasure of my companions. The music helped me remember what I used to be, before Marjolaine had twisted the music into an aria of her own manipulations. 

      _Yet again, I have set aside music for weapons. Though, this time, it was by my choice. Maker above...how I wish for the instruments in my hand to be those that bring beauty, not those that bring death. But, in the changing of what I bear and show the world, I have joined hands with love. Soon, this harsh, bitter chapter of my life will be ended...how I wish it were not so._

     I watched the craftsmen work the metal I had brought to them. I had commissioned a gift, and in that gift lay a prayer, a prayer for the woman I loved. A prayer that would fall on deaf ears. All that I had denied, and even, at times, forgotten, drifted through my mind as I stared into the bed of ruby coals. 

      _I never told her...I suppose that one could call it a lie. A lie of omission. I did not wish Salem to know how...how my vision ended._

     I gnawed at my fingernails, an old habit from the days before I met Marjolaine. Before I had learned that my hands were gifted in darker arts; before my voice had been manipulated into a tool of destruction. Before my beauty became my prized possession. Before every last vestige of innocence had been corrupted. 

      _I never told Salem that my vision ended in darkness, with her beautiful body broken on the stones of Denerim, a river of sacrificial blood pouring from the hole in her heart. I did not speak of it, even as we grew closer...no... **because** we grew closer. Because I selfishly desired to hold her hand in mine for as long as we were allowed. And now, the end is upon us. _

     I gazed once more to the stars above, the eyes of the Maker, staring down at his children the world over. As painful as it was, as devastating and power, I allowed my mind to tell me the truth. The flower had bloomed in Lothering, the vision had been confirmed...every single painful detail had proven true. As would the end...the end I had ignored as I embraced passion and light and something real and tangible and beautiful and  _mine._

      _I was prepared for her death before I set eyes on her. I had already felt her cold hand in mine, heard my voice whispering...just terror...no name. I never imagined, then, that I would grow to love her. I thought I would see her through this mission and guide her into eternity with a merciful, friendly hand. Never did I think that I would lose my heart. Never did I believe that she would be willing to take such a defiled thing in her hands and...and **cherish** it._ 

     "I do not want this." I prayed, letting a shroud of worry and doom overtake my spirit. "Maker, please...can you not alter the future? Can you rescind this vision you have given me? I...I do not wish to heed it any longer, for its prophecy will be my undoing. I am more than merely your servant in this...please. Maker, please, do not take her from my side."

     "No no no." an Antivan accent jolted me from my thoughts and I turned into Zevran's bright smile. "Such a pretty face should not look so vexed, yes?"

     I gave the assassin a weak grin, uncertain if I were happy for his interruption of my bleak thoughts. 

     "Surely, at the end of things, a slight vexation could not go amiss, no matter the beauty of the face?"

     "Ah, Leliana." he chided me, teasing. "What good will gloom do for us now? The end is nigh, so  _celebrate._ Find your warden, take her in your arms, and  _live..._ lest I do that bit of living  _for_ you."

     I chuckled at his salacious jest and turned my attention back to the forges, the rhythmic clang of the hammers reminding me of war drums. War, soon to come, soon to sever, soon to destroy me.

     "Salem has far too much on her mind for my interruptions." I lied to myself and to Zevran, knowing that my heart desired nothing more than to be with my lover. 

      _But this distance is best. If I can sever myself...if I can force myself not to cling to her...then I will continue breathing when her heart stops. In my vision, I lived. How brutally **unfair** is that, my Maker? You would let an impure heart, a criminal, a murderer, walk free and, instead, take the life of one who has not but  **good** within them._ 

     "Salem is begging for your...interruptions." the elf tossed another innuendo at me and I glowered. "Relax, Leliana." he soothed, placing his skilled hands on my shoulders, rubbing them to alleviate the knotted muscles. "There is darkness upon everyon's countenance. Wring some joy from tribulation while you may."

      _Joy is sooner ended that embraced._ I thought of an old Orlesian proverb and it embittered me.  _I do not want to think of joy. I have known it. It is her lips upon my skin, her whispers in the dark, the deathly glow of her eyes as she faces down injustice. She is the only joy I have ever known._

     "Your hooded gaze invites misfortune too soon." Zevran finished his massage and moved in front of me, locking his eyes to mine. "It is only mirth in the face of terror that drives the spectre of death away. You should not be here, songbird. Your warden..."

     "My warden is soon to go to her death." I hissed, allowing my fear to be spoken to the night air, to the elf who had been sent to take Salem's life. 

     The man who had become our friend. 

      "Salem has faced death every day." Zevran attempted to console me. "Surely now is not so different. Better, in fact. She has built an army to pit against an army. The epic struggle of good against evil, order against chaos..."

     "She is a fragile, human woman facing down an ancient god." I sighed, countering his romanticized argument. " _This_ time is different, Zevran. Everything that is happening now is...different."

      _I knew that she would die, from the beginning, but I fell for her anyway. Foolish, **foolish** heart! Now, I want nothing more than to reverse time...to reverse time and live these horrigying months over and over again, simply so that the end I have foreseen may never come._ 

     "A woman against an elder god." Zevran mused. "Such are the tales of legends, no? The hero and their love, marching forward into uncertainty, taking comfort from each other's embrace, defying all odds set against them...perhaps welcoming a certain charming assassin into their bed?"

     He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, and I dismissed his words and invitation with a laugh. 

     " _That_ is what I like to see." he smiled, then sobered. "Death is on the minds of everyone in this village, in this entire country." he told me. "It dances even in my thoughts. But I shall not give in. I am going to leave your charming company, partake of more of Eamon's wine, and find a beautiful woman with whom to comfort myself, and in turn let her be comforted by me."

     I smiled at his words, his zest, his hope. "Would that it were so easy for us all."

     "It could be." he said, sincerity etched in his tones. "But Redcliffe's forges are cold comfort. Go and find your godslayer, songbird. Write your legend together."

     "I believe I will." I lied again, watching the elf rush off, wondering how many of his advances had thus far been spurned. 

     I turned back to the fires, to the rhythm of the hammer's bark. 

      _One thing you do not know about legends, Zevran,_ the darkness in my thoughts returned.  _They are written after the hero's death. They are written by one who remembers...perhaps even one who was there...or, most of the case, legends are penned by the hand of one who loved the hero._

     My eyes filled with salt and sorrow and the moon, stars, and forge provided me no comfort. 

      _Salem,_ her name whispered through my thoughts, quickening the beat of my aching heart,  _I do not wish...to write such a legend...for you._


	3. Our Father's Sins

**Salem**

    "In ages past," Fergus began his explaning, joining me in looking down into the courtyard, refusing to look me in the eyes, "the Couslands were a well respected...magister family."

     Shock spiraled through me and I stared at my brother, quizzical. "Magister?" I asked, wondering why no one in my family, of my blood, had ever told me of this. "As in...Tevinter?"

     "The very same." he nodded. "Unlike other Ferelden nobles, we were not born here, and cannot trace our ancestroy back to Orlais."

     "That much I did know." I replied. "But in all my life I never imagined...our heritage leads back to Tevinter magiesters? If the Landsmeet had known of this..."

     "Our titles would have been stripped, our lands foreclosed." Fergus nodded and finished my thoughts. "Possible arrest by templars. Were we to be found out...the backlash would be swift and terrible."

      _Yes. It would. And it seems that we must always pay for our ancestor's sins. Maker's breath...why did my father never trust me with this?_

     "Fergus...why?" I asked, needing to know the answers, needing to see the reason. "Why were we never told of this? Why was  _I_ never told of this? All the pain that I have endured...I never knew...I never knew that it was yours as well."

     "Tradition." my brother offered me a consoling smile. "Father told me as much. Our family history is only relayed at the birth of a child, so that when and if questions arise, they are able to be answered. Our origins cannot be found out. You should not be angry, Salem. Father would have told you, had you ever settled down and carried his grandchildren."

      _We both know that I had no dreams of such things, dear brother. I am, after all, the child born for mother's sorrow, and you for her joy. And now, even were I to love a man, so much of my body has been damaged. I doubt I could even carry a child full term, and, even if I could, I would not wish to pass on my tainted blood. Why damn an innocent to death before they are even born?_

     "Settle down?" I grinned. "Perish the thought."

     "Why do you think I am telling you now?" Fergus posed a question that needed no answer. "Having witnessed you and your betrothed, it would be cruel not to tell you. I...I can only imagine how difficult this road has been for you, Salem."

     "All I desire is an explanation as to why being healed is more torturous than having a sword plunged through my skin." I whispered, my body twitching at the myriad memories is held of being ripped apart. 

     Fergus winced at my words, his eyes fading into a useless worry as he realized that he had nearly lost me...more times than he could ever comprehend. 

     "I was...approaching the answer to your question." he tossed me a sly smile and I raised my hands, permitting him to continue. "More than two Ages ago, a young Tevinter magister took a woman to wife. Shortly after they were wed, she became pregnant with their first child."

     "Such tends to be the outcome of a wedding." I muttered, wishing that he would get to the end of his tale. 

     I needed answers, not subtle hints, not bandying about the bush. I needed to know and understand why I had come so close to death on numerous occasions. I needed to prevent that, come the future, come the final battle. For Leliana's sake. For my own. 

     "Maker's breath, sister!" Fergus exclaimed. "I do not recall you being this impatient."

     "This...my time," I stumbled over an explanation, "has become quite precious to me of late. I apologize, Fergus. Please, continue unhindered."

     " _Thank you_." he stressed, grinning like a fool. "Anyhow, our ancestor, whose, before you interrupt me to inquire, name has been lost to history, conceived a child. But, when the babe was born, the birth was difficult. His wife gave him a son, but the healers informed him that the woman's life was fading, and that there was no magical remedy, no cure."

     "That is common." I could not restrain myself from speaking. "Unfortunate, but common."

     "It is." Fergus agreed. "But not in this case. The Cousland magister loved his wife beyond sanity, beyond any shade of reason. So he walked into the Fade and sought the one thing that could restore his wife to him."

     I felt blood drain from my face as I realized where this tale journeyed. Dark places. Places I had been to before, that set a chill in my blood and hazed my thoughts with pain. It appeared that I was not the first of my line to travel those paths. 

     "Go on." I spoke, hoarse. 

     "He...he found a desire demon and made a contract. Again, no one remembers the exact contract made, only that he brokered it so that his wife would survive, in return for payment. A payment that was never made."

     "Cousland possessed the Tevinter arrogance." I gritted my teeth, feeling shame, for the first time, at the thought of my heritage. "The same arrogance that created the darkspawn. So," I glanced at my brother's raised eyebrows, "the contract was broken. And the punishment was?"

     "The harshest ever dealt to a magister family." Fergus answered. "The demon stripped Cousland of their magic, declaring that they would never again know its power, and that they would suffer from its touch, no matter its intent. Apparently the curse has waned...I know I have dreams, but..."

     "As do I."  _terrible, dark disturbing dreams._ "So that is the sum of it?" 

      _That is why I must scream out in agony when a kind woman reaches to heal me? That is why I dread having my own life restored? Because a man with whom I share blood once loved...because an **arrogant** man wished to defy the gods? A man who gave me my name, who granted my family its lineage...an utter fool. But, faced with losing Leliana, _I challenged my convictions, my thoughts,  _I must confess that I might do the same._

     "I see." I sighed. "And this is where the vaunted Cousland honor was born? Why we strive to fight to pay all of our debts, why have we never kept another enslaved?"

     "Though I never saw it in that light, you could speak true." Fergus pondered my questions. "The story, as father told it, was that Cousland was exiled from Tevinter after his magic was stripped. Blood magisters...as long as debts to their demons are paid, all is well."

     "I am certain that, whoever he was...he knew the cost." I whispered, praying that it was true. 

     "There is no victory in a deal with demons." Fergus spat, his disdain for magic clear in his tone. "No triumph. He would have damned our family in one manner or another. At least, for us, as we are now, it is a lesser sentence."

     "Yes." I mused, staring at the moon. "And, I suppose, we should be grateful. Magic is...in these times and in this place...a deadly gift. I know I would not desire to liv ein a Circle, confined and cloistered and hidden from the world. Ferelden has one of the more loosely governed circles in Thedas, and still the mages are pariah."

     "I, for one, desire no more temptation than is already present." Fergus' lips turned downward as he restrained more powerful emotions. "Were I a mage, I would have called to me demons of desire and vengeance, brought my wife and son back from the dead, destroyed Howe and Amaranthine, and paid whatever price the demons demanded... _gladly._ "

     "I understand." I commisterated with my brother, setting my hand on his shoulder. 

     I would not tell him. He had no need of knowing that I had stood in the Fade, face to face with a demon, hovering over the edge of surrender. I had been blind, and felt vulnerable...but I had not given in. 

      _At that time, I thought I would give anything to have my sight returned to me. But I would never, **never** take that final step into oblivion. Even though the blighted demon made me watch my lover die. Even though they offered to give me that which I most desired. Especially not now, not now when I realize that the echoes of actions taken impact those ages away. But I harbor no anger towards this nameless ancestor, whoever he might have been. He took desperate action for love. I have no right to accuse the dead. _

     "I am certain you do." Fergus offered a sad smile to the moon. "You loved them too. But that is the tale of Cousland's curse, and we must bear it, for good or ill."

     "It is not so terrible." I lied, wishing to spare him the knowledge of my suffering. "Thank you...thank you for telling me."

     "I wish it were a story of nobility and honor...that which Cousland is known for in  _this_ land." Fergus apologized to me for ancient deeds done. "But it is not. It was a selfish man who thought he could tear down heaven."

      _I cannot fault him, Fergus. I cannot._

     "He was a man who loved." I comforted my brother. "That has not changed. We have always managed to cause scandal by marrying for love."

     "And you are continuing a fine tradition." Fergus lifted an imaginary glass in toast. "You should not be here, Salem. You should be with her...the one you love...while you still have the time."

      _Time...time that I feel creeping in my shadow, taunting me with sunrise as it grows shorter...and shorter still. There is a weight in my heart, crushing me. I do not know if I can face Leliana, knowing that soon all of Thedas' fate will be decided...knowing that I might be going to my death._ _  
_

"I am fine here a while longer." I avoided my desires, my fears, my insecurities.

     Fergus glowered at me. "Get off of this rampart this instant." he ordered as he had once done, when we were young, and I still foolish enough to obey my older brother. "There are fears around every corner, death in every thought, and you are overburdened. Breathe while you can,  _love_ while you may. Please, Salem...for the sake of what we lost, take what we now have and  _cherish_ it."

      _Cherish it. Cherish her. Forget the past, ignore the future...and live._

     "As you say." I embraced him quickly and left, seeking out a beautiful woman who carried my ring on her finger and my heart in her hand. 

      _That ring...a promise I might never be able to fulfill. A debt I might not live to repay._


	4. Sweet Moment Stolen

**Leliana**

    I sat in the room that Eamon had assigned to us, glad for the window that ventilated the smoke from the torches. A fire burned bright in the hearth, giving the room a warm glow and me enough ligh tto work. I unpacked my bow in the flickering light, running my hand across the wood and the leather. I sighed as I felt the rough of the leather and the gashes I saw in the surface of the wood. 

      _We have been through quite a lot, my friend._ I smiled and knelt, rustling through my packs, pulling out a vial of oil and soft cloth.  _I am sorry that I have been lacking in my care for you...there was simply so much else to do._

     I poured oil onto the cloth and began to rub the oil into the wood of the bow, attempting to gain a few more months of life out of the abused weapon. I studied my bow, the rich hues of the wood, the marks and scars in it, each with their own story. The times that I had been forced to use the delicate weapon to turn aside a darkspawn blade. The times I had heard the wood crack when I pulled back on the string. Too many moments of danger. 

      _Maker...is it wrong that I can look at this instrument of death, this weapon that I never wanted, and feel sorrow. Not sorrow from the wielding of it, but sorrow in the knowledge that **this** bow will outlive the woman I love. For a new god of mercy, my Maker, you are entirely too cruel. Why did you burden me with this vision if you did not give me the power to change it?_

    "How is she?" a question echoed over the stones and I nearly dropped my bow. "Forgive me." Salem sat down on the floor, leaning her back against the bed, which I had made my perch. "I did not mean to startle you."

     I turned my eyes away from her, attempting to quell the joyous thrumming of blood through my veins. 

      _I must not...give in to this emotion. It will be easier, easier to accept this devastating eventuality if I can simply...resist Salem...I feel as though I have not gazed upon her in years. She enters our bed after I have already succumbed to slumber; she leaves it before the break of dawn._

     "She has been through hell." I answered Salem's question, knowing that I spoke of more than my weapon. "But will hold true...at least until after the final battle."

     Salem nodded and stared off into the distance, looking much as she had when she was blind. She leaned over and rested her head against my thigh and I winced at the touch, even though I craved her nearness, her security, the indomitable strength that defined her being. Her touch set me on fire in only the best of ways. 

     "You are not simply speaking of your bow, are you?" she asked, tearing through my illusions as she had ever done, piercing straight to the core of me. 

      _As much as I tried to hide, as much as I simply wished to be the lay sister of the Chantry, you reached past that. You made me reveal the Nightingale; her flaws, her strength, her pain and torment. You are the first person who ever allowed me to be simply...Leliana. I do not know if I will ever be able to thank you enough...or forgive you._

     "I am not." I admitted, letting my hair shield my face, loathing the way my skin burned where hers pressed against it. 

     "Tell me your fears, dear heart." she whispered. "I am afraid I have been remiss. I have stayed away from you too long."

      _And I have also avoided you._ _  
_

"Do not apologize." I hastened to speak, to keep my guilt from presenting itself and making my deception transparent.

     I could not tell her. Not now. 

     "You have had much on your mind; wars of the mind to win, a brother with whom to reconnect." I told her, forgiving her completely, because of love. 

     "There will be time for that later." Salem made the same promise she always had before. And before, it had always been true. 

      _No. There will be no time. Not when the archdemon begins its march. Then our time is done; that which we were will be over._

     "As you say." I muttered, returning my attention to my bow. 

     Salem pushed herself to her feet and stood over me. She took my chin in her hand and lifted my eyes to her face. 

     "Do not avoid me, Leliana." she said, but it was not an order. 

     It was a prayer, a whisper, a broken voice at the edge of entire disintegration. I made the mistake of gazing into her eyes, walls crumbling as I felt the love in them wash over me like a spring storm. Her fingers caressed my cheek and I leaned against her strong, scarred, callused palm. 

     "I have been away too long, but I am here now." she smiled and it was all the radiance of the sun. "Tell me, Leliana."

     There were tears in my eyes now, and somehow I felt shamed by them. I could not tell her the entire truth. "I am afraid...to lose you." I whispered, feeling weight lift from my chest. 

     "I am right here." she told me and my heart cracked. 

     I set my bow aside and stood, undaunted by Salem's height. 

     "For how long?" I wanted her to lie to me with all the surety of the earth. I longed for her to convince me that a  _god_ had deceived me. "Salem, for...for how long?"

     "Until I am but dust in the ground." she answered. "Until every memory of my existence has been extinguished. For as long as Thedas remembers the name of Salem Cousland, they will know that my heart was carried within the hands of the Maker's most beautiful creation. For as long as histories are written, legends told around firesides, and children lulled to sleep with the tales of heroes, I. Will. Be. With. You."

      _Thank you_ … _for believing that love can transcend time, space, death, and the edicts of the Maker. I have said it before, and I will again, you should have been born a bard._

     Suddenly, words were not enough. Assurances were inadequate. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around her, molding her body to mine. Her strong hand tangled in my hair and held me to her as I wept.

     "I love you, Leliana." she whispered and I cried all the harder, ashamed of myself.

_Shame that I wished to hide from the future. Shame that I wished to break free of your embrace. There is nowhere in all of Thedas that I would rather be. Nowhere. Not even at the Maker's side._

     "I love you." I hugged her tighter against me. "Salem, I am…"

     "Here. In this moment. With me. Do not borrow trouble from tomorrow, for both of our sakes." she pressed her lips to my forehead.

     Unsatisfied, I lifted my head and caught her lips with my own, pouring my anguish, my sorrow, my secrets into her soul, drinking in her promises, her acceptance, her love. For the first time, I let her be strong for both of us and felt no shame. For that moment, I  _believed_  that Salem could defy destiny.

_You have faced down dragons and demons and abominations, my warden. What is an Archdemon but another foe to slay? We will come through this trial as we have every one set before us. Victorious…and together…and alive._


	5. The Gift of Love and Blood

**Salem**

      _I am afraid...to lose you._

     Her words echoed in my mind even as I pressed my body closer to hers, attempting to reassure, to comfort. Never had I been surrounded by an aura of fear, the choked scream in the throats of every man, worrying that life might soon end. Never had I danced on the razor edge of fate...until fate turned against me and brought me here. 

      _However, life has never been a guarantee. I do not fear death...I do not believe I ever have. What I do fear is leaving Leliana behind, to face the world the only way she has ever known. Alone. I do not wish that fate for her. Even so, I must reconcile myself to the fact that our roles might be reversed. I might defy all odds and live...and be forced to endure her passing._ _  
_

"I have something for you." Leliana whispered, wiping tears from her eyes and extricating herself from my embrace, leaving me both empty and full. "I had wished for there to be a proper moment of ceremony, but I feel the air aquiver all around us, trembling in the wake of something no man could control. I fear if I do not do this now, then I shall never have my chance."

     "Very well." I drew back and gazed at the smile she wore

     It was full of sorrow and mournful longing but also...a desperate sort of hope. Hope that the end might be dissuaded. That we might both emerge from the battle of the Age alive and intact and able to live a life of peace. 

     Leliana lowered her eyes, shielding them, and bit the edge of her lip. For some reason, she seemed hesitant, and I did not know why. She moved to the other side of the bed and knelt, withdrawing a box wrapped in red velvet. She set it on the bed and stepped away, drawing into herself, as though afraid. 

     I stared at her, arms crossed, eyebrow lifted. She glanced up at my expression and laughed, lightening the tension in the room. 

     "Are you going to open it, love?" she asked. 

     "The moment you cease shaking like a leaf." I answered, hating that she seemed to be this ill at ease...about a gift. 

      _Have I done something wrong?_ I wondered.  _Something to make her fear me? Something to make her believe that our love will be cheapened, or that I will disdain her gift to me as unworthy?_

     "I am afraid I cannot do that until I gain your approval." she answered, coy, yet still anxious. "Please, Salem."

     Unable to deny her request, I moved around the bed, coming to stand beside Leliana. I took the red velvet drap in my hands and folded it, neat, laying it aside on the pillow. With a smile at my lover, I opened the box...all breath flooded out of my body and Leliana came to my side, wrapping her arm about my waist. 

     "Do you...like them?" she asked, still keeping her eyes shielded from my sight. 

      _I know how why you hesitated._ I thought.  _But you have no need to fear, Leliana. I am not Marjolaine. I promise, I swear, I will never use anything you have given me against you. Not words, not touch, not gifts. I **love** you, my bard. I love you beyond speech and speaking. _

     Awestruck, I remained silent, transfixed by her thoughtfulness. 

     Two swords lay in the box, gleaming even in the dim light of the room. They were thinner than the blades I had wielded before, those I had taken from the cultists, but that did not matter. I lifted one of them, testing its weight. It felt light, almost impossibly so, but the metal sang in my hands and through the air as I spun the blade, gauging its range and maneuverability. 

     It whispered a song of death through the thin air and a smile struck my lips and did not depart as I brought the blade closer to my eyes, examining the quality of the metal. It appeared to be the finest steel, folded to perfection and ready to be tried in battle. I tested the edge of the blade with the pad of my thumb, feeling skin shear as I stroked the blade. I winced and placed my finger against my lips, tasting the tang of blood. Leliana laughed and removed my hand from my lips, surveying the damage done. 

     "You've lost a few layers of skin, my heedless warden." she breathed against my ear. "You should keep better care of yourself."

     "Leliana...how?" I asked, mystified. "This is fine quality steel, folded to an impossible strength. Where...where did you come by them?"

     "And this is where I hope you will forgive me." she shielded her face with her hair. "I...absconded with Loghain's blade after your duel. You were unconscious and I felt that he did not deserve the honor of having his sword buried with him...that perhaps some redemption for him could be gained in having his sword once more turned to the service of Ferelden...a silly thought, I know. Regardless, I had Levi melt down the sword and reforge it into a matched set of twin blades for you. Zevran sacrificed some of his Antivan leather for the hilts, which Levi forged himself...Oghren helped, giving Levi some of Branka's smithing techniques that made her a paragon. Shale substituted knowledge where Oghren's was lacking...I am told she folded the steel two hundred and fifty times...I am rambling again...Wynne and Morrigan enchanted runes, and Sandal fixed them to the weapons; nothing will touch their surface. If the archdemon's blood proves to be as corrosive as the dragon's, then these blades will not be eaten away, nor will they know rust, nor will their edges dull."

      _Heavens, hells, and angels._ I swallowed down the lump in my throat, fighting against the tears I felt creeping into my eyes.  _All of them gave in some way...to create this gift for me. So that I could fight the archdemon and have every chance for victory that they can afford me. There are no words in the face of this...no words at all._

     "Sten inscribed the hilts." Leliana continued. "I asked that they both have the symbol of House Cousland etched on them...but I am afraid he surprised me. It was a display of thoughtfulness that I did not expect...and I pray you do not disapprove."

     I looked down at the crossguard of the first sword, smiling as I saw the rampant mabari carefully inscribed on the metal by a master's hand. I set that blade down and took up the second, noticing a different image. 

     A nightingale in flight. 

     The tears did fall the, streaking down my cheeks as I realized the absolute perfection of the gift I had been given. The perfection of Leliana's love for me, and her acceptance of what I was and what I had been called to do. 

      _This is beyond fitting._ I stared at the beautiful image of the nightingale.  _This is truth stamped in metal. She is my strength, my guiding light, my support in an ever-morphing world. I am nothing without her. I would have died a thousand times over without her at my side._

"I...I do not know what to say." I breathed, stunned by the magnitude of her thoughtfulness, her generosity, and her intimate knowledge of my heart. 

     "What is this?" she asked, amused. "The great Salem Cousland, in tears and at a loss for words? Is this true? Do my eyes deceive me? Great Maker above, reveal to me if this is truth or vision?"

     "Minx." I teased her, setting aside the gifts and wrapping my arms around their giver. "I...I have never been given... _anything_ to the measure of this. I...there is no way in which to thank you properly."

     "Use them." she pressed a kiss against my lips. "Use them to bring down your enemies, to save our country, preserve our lives..."

     _...and fight for our love._ My thoughts finished the words she did not say.  _And she said "save **our** country". Leliana, does thi smean that you have returned to the land of your birth at last; that you are willing to claim Ferelden as you rown...giving up your dreams of Orlais and Val Royeaux? _

     "I will." I told her, shivering as he rhand wiped away my tears. 

     Words fell away, as they always managed to do between us. I captured Leliana's lips with my own, conveying what my words could not. My gratitude, not just for the gift she had given me, but for the gift that she  _was._

      _An ever-present light in a land shrouded by darkness. A calming word in conflict, a stalwart support in trial. I have said this before, and I will again. You, Leliana, are my **everything.**_

     Her lips were fire against mine; her hands struck sparks against my skin as they worked at the laces of my clothes. I slipped my hands under her shirt and pulled her closer to me, tracing my fingers across her skin, groaning aloud when I felt her breast fill my palm and her nipple tighten at my touch. Her breath hitched in a high piched whimper and my body responded, heating, melting, becoming needy. 

     Her nails dug into my back and I gasped as my nerves fissured into spasms of bliss. I pulled her lower lip into my mouth and grazed it with my teeth as I grasped the hem of her shirt, needing to be naked with her, beside her, within her, and growing frustrated by the boundaries of clothing between us. 

     "Salem." a knock at the door sounded and a man's voice spoke my name. 

     I growled in frustration and pulled away from Leliana, attempting to catch my breath. 

     "What in hell do you want?" I asked. 

     Alistair stepped into the room, averting his eyes and lowering his head, afraid of retribution...or what he might see, I could not say. 

     "Riordan has asked to see us. He says it is quite urgent."

      _Maker's blood-soaked breath! Does it never **end!?**_  

     "I will be there shortly." I informed him, terse. "Get out."

     Alistair retreated and I turned to Leliana, apologies in my gaze. "Forgive me, dear heart." I whispered, reaching out and tucking her hair behind her ear. "I will return as soon as I can."

     "I understand." she took my hand and kissed it, releasing it back to me with a soft smile. "I love you, Salem."

     "You are so very beautiful." I looked over my shoulder as I left the room, on another mission that could not be avoided. "I love you too."

      _And you are mine. And I am filled with joy._


	6. Futures Laid Before Us

**Leliana**

    My body ached as I watched Salem walk away from me. Fire burned through my veins with no outlet and my heart felt as though it had been scorched. It had been so long since our passions had risen and merged, so long since we touched each other simply for the glory and beauty of connection. And it was broken by duty, by need, as ever it had been before, and would continue to be. 

      _Why?_ I wondered, staring out of the window and into the sky, as though it would give me the answers I sought.  _Why do interruptions come at every moment, every **fucking** inopportune moment?_ 

     I stared at the swords that I had given Salem, tracing my fingers over Sten's beautifully engraved nightingale. I had not known how Salem would react to such a thing, that she might think it to presumptuous of me but...

      _The tears in her eyes spoke volumes; the manner in which her hands clung to me; the fervor of her kisses. And her words...Maker's breath, those beautiful, passionate words._

     I wrapped my arms about myself as the fire in my body gave way to the chill that had not completely left my soul. 

      _Where will I run when I need encouragement and she is no longer there? Whose voice will I seek out when I question a god? There is no other who could make me believe against divine will...and she must die._

     I ran my fingers over the symbol of Cousland's rampant mabari and let tears of my own slip from my eyes. 

     "You will die, my love." I whispered, hearing the words echo in the hollowness of the room. "You will die and you will be buried with these blades. For a moment, for a beautiful, pristine moment of grandeur, I believed. I believed that the Maker had lied...but I find now it is not so. Only with you here, at my side, can I deny the truth."

     I pulled my hand away from the chill of the weapon, realizing it felt too much like the cold of Salem's skin in my vision. Too much like the bloodless touch of my lover whose eyes would greet the sun no more. I closed my eyes in brief pain of the soul and the sight flashed before them again. 

      _Cold...breathless...lifeless. Her soulful blue eyes open, fixed upon the emergent sun, the quirk of a smile on her pale lips. Beautiful in death as she was in life. Looking into the light of the next eternity, scars erased from her eyes...free. Free from her tainted blood, from her destiny as a Grey Warden...free from nightmares. Free as she will never be, should the impossible happen and she survive. Perhaps I am too jealous. Perhaps I dream too far. Perhaps it would be better for her to walk into the Maker's grace, to look upon her father and mother and receive their joy and pride into her heart. Perhaps it would be better...for her sake._

_Salem...who has given so much of herself for me...deserves to walk into the eternal peace that transcends understanding. And, if legends prove true, how am I to know that our souls will not one day reunite under different names and new faces? It could happen..._

     I left the warmth of the room and walked down the winding staircase, out into the main yard of Redcliffe Castle. The night wrapped about me like a cloak and I took comfort from the darkness. Darkness hid my emotions, the raging torrent in my soul that threatened to spill from my eyes and lips in grief that as of yet had no reason to exist. 

      _Under a wide, forgiving sky,_ I remembered my thoughts from the night Salem was captured by Cauthrien and taken to Howe's dungeons, brutally tortured to keep those she loved safe. 

_But I cannot even cry out. I cannot even mourn the dead, for they are still living. All I can do is stand here, suspended between present and what has been prophesied, my heart splitting, body aching, spirit sundered, and soul all but crushed. All I can do is set weapons in the hand of a warrior who will use them in one final, glorious battle. And then I shall fade...I shall fade into the black, the shadows of Thedas, never to emerge again. I will sing for coin on the street and dance with traveling minstrels. I will never raise a blade again, unless it is to my own throat when the grief becomes too much to bear, as it surely will..._

_...as it surely will._

    "Maker, what is your purpose for me in all of this?" I prayed, disregarding the flurry all around me, the clanging from the forges, the whinnying from the stables, the gruff shouts of men in armor as troops assembled in formation. "What am I to do after this battle has ended? Will you forsake me as you have other prophets? Will you leave me alone to carve my own path in the world? Where am I to go without the one whose heart you allowed to love me?"

     "Excuse me, madame." an urbane tone...no, more than that...a carefully concealed Orlesian accent...broke my concentration. 

     "Yes?" I turned to face a young man, dressed in unremarkable clothing. 

     However, I could see lines that others could not, the concealed weapon sheathes, the unmistakable bulges of hidden armor. Whatever he was attempting to be, he did not pass for a young man of Ferelden. His moustache was too fashionably groomed, his eyebrows shaped, and a hint of kohl about his eyes, as was the trend in Orlais. 

      _He is not what he seems._ I thought, wondering what fresh torture awaited me. 

     "I am seeking Leliana, lay sister of the Lothering Chantry. I was told she might be found here."

     I moved my hand behind my back, wrapping my fingers around the hilt of a dagger. Whatever his intentions were, I would not be caught off my guard. 

     "I am she."

     He reached into the breast of his vest and my grip on my dagger tightened, muscles tensed, ready to strike. The young man extended a sealed parchment towards me. 

     "I was sent by the Divine; ordered to seek you out. Her instructions were strict, to deliver this missive into the hands of Leliana, also known as the NIghtingale. Are you, in truth, she?"

     I let go of the knife, reeling with the unexpected information as I saw the Divine's seal stamped in blood-red wax on the parchment. 

      _A letter? From the Divine herself? For me? What sort of new madness is this?_

     "I swear it, on the Maker's grace." I answered, and the young man placed the parchment into my hands. 

     "Be well, madame." he spoke. "I must away."

     "Maker's blessings." I bade the mysterious messenger, watching him mount his horse and flee through Redcliffe's gates as though he were afraid of pursuit. 

     I held the letter in a trembling hand, tracing my name in a fine script that I had seen before...on the messages that Mother Dorothea had received during my tenure in her Chantry. 

      _This was handwritten by the Divine herself,_ my heart began to race as I cracked the seal. I opened the letter and absorbed its contents. 

* * *

      _Sister Leliana,_

_It has come to my attention that you have left the service of the Lothering Chantry, and as such are the only member of the sisters and brethren that remains alive. I have researched yourhistory and sought truth behind the claims of treason against our Empress. Upon hearing the testimony of a young elven mage, and searching the history of your former compatriots, I have compelled Empress Celene to write you a formal pardon. You are no longer wanted by the magistrates of Orlais._

_In light of those favors, I have a request to make of you. I am given to understand that you travel in the company of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, and are assisting them against the Blight. Once this is accomplished, for good or ill, you will have within the month of the event to report to me here, in Val Royeaux. I wish to discuss with you the fate of the Lothering Chantry, and enlist the aid of your, what I am told, is a superior and particular skill set._

_Go in the Maker's grace, my child, and may He bring light and good fortune upon your path._

_Beatrix ~ Divine of Orlais_

* * *

    I stared at the letter as though it were a venemous snake that I held in my hands. 

     "A royal pardon?" I asked the no-one that stood next to me. "I am...no longer banished? No longer wanted? No longer...in danger?"

      _I could return home,_ I realized, cold shivers of disbelief washing over me.  _And work in the service of the Divine as she requests...well...demands that I do._

     "Maker," I whispered yet another prayer, "is this your way of telling me that my life will continue in your service, even after Salem's has ended? Is this your way of granting me peace, assuring me that my service is not yet done, that you still have need of me, that I am not a vessel to be once used then discarded?"

      _But what if she lives...what if Salem lives and I am forced into the service of the Divine? What if we are separated by duties as Warden and...whatever the Divine wishes me to be? How...how could I endure such a cruel eventuality? Oh, how I wish for the divination of ancient gods, for histories written in blood...so that I would know them for their immutability. Instead...this...this tossing about of whim and fancy and fate. It is killing me._

      _Let the final battle come soon, dear Maker. Let the final battle come soon; let my heart be at rest. For good or ill. For good or ill._

 


	7. Anticipated Sacrifice

**Salem**

    I followed behind Alistair, frustration crescendoing with every step. 

      _Every time. Every time, I am torn away from her, forced into something that always promises great unpleasantness. Maker's blood-soaked breath, must she always be out of reach? Must time and chance always dictate our separation?_

     "Alistair," I asked, "how bloody  _important_ is this?"

     "Important enough that Riordan told me to pull you away no matter what you might be doing." my fellow warden answered, blushing to the tips of his ears. "I apologize, Salem. I know your time with Leliana has been quite limited of late."

     "Limited to the point of non-existence." I growled as Alistair pushed open the door leading to Riordan's room. 

     The Orlesian warden stood before a roaring fire, looking much better than he had in Howe's dungeons. I had avoided him, still filled with the same distaste I had felt for him at our first meeting. It was not his heritage, not his seniority, but his  _arrogance_ that I despised. At every gathering of strategy, Riordan had attempted to overrule both Eamon and myself, speaking of his past trials in combat...nothing that had even come close to what Alistair and I had faced. 

      _The last Blight was well before his time,_ my thoughts muttered, angry that I had been forced to forfeit time with my lover to listen to the words of a pompous ingrate.  _He came late and was imprisoned because he was **stupid** enough to get caught. Why should I have to listen to what he has to say, when I have led what remains of the wardens since the disaster that was Ostagar. _

     "Greetings, Alistair." he spoke, nodding to us as we entered. "Salem."

     "What do you want?" I asked, leaning against a wall and crossing my arms. 

     I might have been his junior, both in age and in the hierarchy of the wardens, but, as I had told him, here, in Ferelden, my word was law. I had fought more, bled more, and killed more in the last year than Riordan had in the entirety of his tenur of the wardens. 

     "I wanted to know the extent of what Duncan taught you." Riordan answered, smiling in a useless attempt to get me to warm to him. I had place in my heart for a single Orlesian. "Things are quickly coming to a close, and there are secrets of our order which must be revealed, if they have not been already."

     "What sort of secrets?" Alistair asked. 

     He did not harmor the same disdain for Riordan as I, but he had no great love for the man either. 

      _As far as Alistair is concerned, the only wardens worth their salt are myself, and Duncan. The rest of them...forsook us, left us in the cold, and refused our many entreaties for help. We have been forced to walk this most difficult of roads alone, and it is only by the Maker's grace that we found ourselves surrounded by those who wished to aid us in the absence of those who call it their **duty.**_

     Riordan stared further into the fire, meditating on his next words. "Do you know what happens when an archdemon dies?" he inquired. 

     Alistair and I exchanged a guilty look. No. We did not know; nor had we come across one who could inform us. 

     "We do not." I replied, unwilling to apologize for my ignorance. 

     The lack in our instruction was through no fault of our own. Our instructor and guide had been killed. We had been unable to save him, and no other warden had agreed to come to Ferelden. 

     "I thought as much." Riordan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "It is so much easier when not faced with times such as these; when the young do not have to stare the cruel reality in the face."

     "Then cease with the bandying of words and tell us." I spoke. "We have come this far; surely new information will not daunt us."

     "I believe it to be quite daunting." Riordan spoke in his obnoxious, condescending manner. "Especially for one in your...particular situation...Salem."

      _My particular situation? What in heaven's name could he possibly mean by that? My situation is no different from Alistair's. The both of us are wardens; damaged by the same taint, tied to the same fate. We are no different, he and I._

     "Riordan," Alistair calmed the rising tensions, "please, just let us know. There are better things to occupy our limited time than the riddles of the wardens."

     "Very well." Riordan muttered. "Damn Fereldens, always seeking a blunt truth when a gentle blow would leave you less injured." he lifted his gaze and stared straight into my eyes, drawing back as he saw that death lived with in them. "When an archdemon dies, its spirit floods out of its body in an immense wave of energy. This energy seeks out the nearest vessel bearing the taint...which is always the warden who strikes the final blow."

     "So...we become the archdemon?" Alistair questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

     "No." Riordan shook his head. "The finer magics used in the Joining ritual prevent such an abomination from occurring."

      _This is going to a dark place,_ I realized.  _This is what Duncan would have told us earlier on, so that we would refrain from entering...relationships of any kind. So that only wardens, who face whatever fate Riordan is next to disclose, would share in it. Maker, if...if only I had known before!_

     "Then..." my voice trembled and I felt ashamed. "...what does occur?"

     "The spirit of the old god makes its home in the warden's body." Riordan spoke, voice heavy with a destiny choked by blood, "The magic of the Joining seals it in place...and the warden is killed, as is the essence of the archdemon."

      _ **No!**_ My thoughts screamed in agony, even as I recognized an irrefutable truth.  _No, Maker, no! This cannot be...I had thought death might be certain, but only from wounds sustained. Now I find it is a guarantee. What manner of cruelty exists in the world that the death of a warden is absolute? Is it not enough that lives are taken by the arrogance of men who wished to strike down gods? Is it not enough that villages are burned, children orphaned, wives and husbands widowed? Must those who end tragedy suffer as well? Must those who take up the mantle of savior, protector...also atone for the sins of ancients?_

     "It's settled then." Alistair's face set into a mask of steel. "I will strike the final blow."

     "Have you lost your mind!" I found the power of speech and erupted, clenching my fist in order to resist the urge to strike him for his stupidity. "You are the  _future king of Ferelden!_ Knowing this...there is no chance on this  _earth_ that I will even let you  _near_ the archdemon!"

     "I have followed you in many things, Salem." Alistair fought back...anger in his tone. "But not in this. I  _cannot._ Ferelden will find another ruler. Eamon, perhaps, or your brother, Fergus. Salem...between the two of us, you have the most to lose. Let me do this. For you. For  _Leliana._ "

      _Let me do this because I love you._

     The words hung unsaid, heavy, in the air. I fought back tears. I would not allow Riordan to see me like this. He already thought me weak for my love of Leliana. I could see it in the way his lip curled when he saw us together, the mockery in his eyes because he thought I reached for more than a Grey Warden should dream of. And...I had. I had reached for a life, because I had believed I might have one. 

     "Alistair, no." I argued. "I will have  _none_ of this. There are nobles now, expending resources and staking their livelihoods to back you. For you to die...Ferelden would be cast into worse turmoil than it lies in now. I cannot do that to my country... _our_ country."

     "But what about Lel..."

     I raised a hand, cutting his words short. "The lives of thousands hinge on your wearing of the crown. My life, in the face of that, is meaningless. My love, in the face of that, is..."

     "Meaningless?" Alistair scoffed. "You're a fool, too damnably altruistic for your own good. Just accept this gift, Salem. Fucking  _accept_ that there are others who consider your life greater than their own, no matter the promises they have made!"

     "Both of you, still your tongues!" Riordan interrupted. "You both were  _obviously_ taught by Duncan. So foolish and headstrong. But he was a paragon among us, and his tendency was to recruit those like him. In hopes of both of your futures, and the oddity that is a country's fate hinging on the actions of Grey Wardens,  _I_ will strike the final blow against the archdemon. Alistair will take his place as king, and you, Salem, can continue to serve the order."

     I scrutinized Riordan. He had not been tortured in Howe's dungeons, as I had, but he showed the effects of incarceration all the same. His skin was still an unhealthy shade of pale, his eyes hollow and sunken, his stature somewhat stooped. He had lost a great deal of strength, and I did not know if it was the taint wearing on him, or his imprisonment. Regardless, he was still too thin from malnutrition. 

      _He will not last through the first wave,_ I thought, turning on my heel. 

     "Damn you to hell, Riordan." I growled, striding out of the room, away from Alistair, away from the truths of the order in which I had wanted no part, the secrets that were considered too great for the young. 

     My heart ached in my chest, feeling as though a knife soaked with sorrow had pierced it. Every heartbeat pulsed acid through my veins. I felt broken inside. I knew, in my heart, that Riordan would not succeed. He would not kill the dragon, and I would knock Alistair unconscious before he took a step near the archdemon. He was a second brother to me, I loved him, and I could not sacrifice the fate of my country for...for my own selfish desires. 

      _I was torn away from a moment of love...and now must confess this hideous fate. Leliana, I do not even know how to begin...I am so sorry, dear heart. Please, do not forgive me. Please hate me when I tell you, hate me and flee my side. Let me go to my death without fearing for your heartbreak. And it will be my death. Riordan is not a young man...and if I must chain Alistair here in Redcliffe to preserve his life, I will. It will be my hand that slays the archdemon; that has been inevitable. And now, this is also inevitable._

_I.     Am.     Going.     To.     Die._


	8. Denying Everything and Nothing

**Leliana**

    I returned to my room and waited for Salem. I sat before the fire, reading the Divine's letter over and over again until the letters and script smeared together. It held my future, perhaps even my destiny. I would be pulled from Ferelden, the land of my birth...the land that had first been my refuge and, after meeting Salem, become my home. 

      _Home lies within the heart._ I thought, remembering what Cecile had told me, so long ago, when I was a motherless child in Val Royeaux.  _And my heart lies with Salem. No matter where I am, be it Val Royeaux, Nevarra, Antiva, Rivain, or the darkest depths of the Deep Roads, I shall never be at home without her._

     The hinges of the door screeched and I tucked the letter out of sight. There were too many thoughts swirling inside our minds, chaos abundant, and I did not have the heart to overtax Salem with this newest revelation. The greatest of wars stood before us, and she needed me beside her, with her...not beleaguring herself with the knowledge that a higher purpose would call me away. 

     I turned to my warden, my heart darkening as I saw no trace of the strong, vibrant woman who had left not a candlemark ago. Her shoulders were bunched together, her hair mussed and in front of her face, shielding her eyes like a mask. The light caught her cheeks and I saw the streak of fresh tears. 

     I rose from my seated position before the fire, intent on touching her, taking her hands, drawing her eyes to mine and asking what had changed her so. I stopped when she lifted a hand, ordering me to come no further. 

     "No." she whispered, and her voice was broken. Gone were its rough, lyric notes, its surety and calm. "Don't...don't come near me."

     "Salem?" my heart quickened with concern. 

      _Something has happened...but what? What could it possibly be that would make her turn away from my touch, from the comfort that I can provide, and am willing to give?_

     "Salem, what is wrong?"

     "Everything." she brushed past me, walking to the fire. 

     A heavy sigh left her lips and she leaned against the stone, her back to me, eyes gazing into flames that could do nothing to combat the chill that entered my veins. I had seen Salem stand against impossible odds, always with the declaration that she would not lose. I had seen her body battered beyond comprehension, and still sparks spat inside her gaze as she got to her feet and faced what would come. But now...now she looked defeated, and it terrified me to my depths. 

     "Salem..."

     "You should go." she interrupted. "Return my ring and leave. No sweet farewell, no lingering kiss, just you...gone. Away from wherever I may be. Forever."

      _What in **hell?**_ My mind splintered into a thousand shards, each one piercing through my skin and straight into my soul.  _What has happened? What has changed her in so short a time?_

     "Have you gone mad?" I asked, walking towards her, placing my hand on my shoulder. She flinched at the contact. "Salem, please, love, you are not speaking coherently."

     "I damn well am." she hissed, shrugging off my touch and walking away from me again, towards the window. "Get out of here, Leliana."

     " _Seal your lips_." I hardened my voice, unable to countenance the words coming from her mouth. "And tell me what in the  _abyss_ you are playing at? Not days ago you asked me to be with you for an eternity, to swear a marriage vow before the Maker. This same day your lips were against mine with a passion unknown outside of legends. This same day you swore that you loved me. Now...this? Tell me what has happened, Salem, or I will curse you with my presence until you do!"

     "I've cursed us both!" Salem turned to me, tears and fury in her eyes. "I...I did not intend for this, Leliana. I never meant to mislead you...never thought to give you a promise I could not fulfill." her voice cracked and she fell to her knees. "I am  _sorry_ , dear heart. I failed you...I have failed us both. We should...should never have loved; I swear, if I had known, I would never have drawn closer to you. I promise you; you  _must_ believe me. _Please_."

     "Known what?" I asked, bewildered to the point of tears, but forcing myself to remain strong. I knelt beside my lover and tucked her hair behind her ears. "Salem, you can tell me anything, anything at all, and I swear, no matter its gravity or sorrow, I will not leave."

     "You should." she wept, gazing into my eyes. 

     "I will be the judge of that." I whispered, cupping her cheek with my hand. "Tell me."

     Salem took a shuddering inhale and closed her eyes, visibly centering herself even though I could feel the trembling in her body. 

     "Riordan...wished to tell Alistair and me...the warden's fate."

     "And?" I asked around my tightening throat. 

     "The warden who kills the archdemon, who strikes the final, victorious blow," Salem retreated into herself, hiding from my reaction, "must forfeit their life. If they do not die, the archdemon will simply find another host and reincarnate itself. But the magic of the Joining changes that...it binds the archdemon's soul...but in order to do that, the warden who kills it must die as well."

      _So...now you know the truth._ I hung my head and breathed deep, struggling with the relief I felt at not having to tell her the truth that had been revealed to me.  _You know what I have seen. I do not know if I feel relieved or if I should hate myself for not being the voice that told you your fate. Instead, you were forced to learn of it from a man you do not value. What a harsh blow it must have been. My warden, you have not failed me...it is I who have failed you in this._

     "Leliana," Salem took both of my hands in hers, and I flinched from their chill, "I cannot let Alistair take such a risk and...and Riordan is old, by the standard of the wardens. Since he is the sole warden that came to join us, I would venture to say that he has received his Calling already. He will never make it to the archdemon, not against the foes that I have seen; not against those we yet face. Forgive me, Leliana. Forgive me for this but I...I have no choice. I thas to be me..." her eyes went distant and she sounded in shock as she spoke, "...I have to die."

     I took yet another deep breath, preparing myself for what was to come. "I know."

     "What?" her brows furrowed and her eyes  _shrieked_ in pain. "What do you mean, you know?"

     "I...I have known since the beginning." I confessed, wincing as she gripped my hands to the point of pain. "In my vision...Salem...I saw you die. In truth, I di dno tknow it was you; for I never saw distinctive features or knew your name, but I knew that it was a warden, a woman, and...my friend. Even in the vision, I felt grief for a loss that I did not, at the time, know the true magnitude of."

     "Why...why did you not tell me?" she asked, confusion turning her face into that of a grief-stricken child. "Leliana...why?"

     I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump in my throat as my chest tightened and my eyes welled with tears. My entire heart felt bruised as I saw the pain in her eyes, and I realized I could have spared her so much had I not...had I not given into the selfishness in my spirit. I had wanted her love. I had needed it. But I could have spared her this...and chose not to. 

     "Because I fell in love with you." I answered. "And I wanted to find a way to defeat destiny. You...you made me forget, Salem. You made...you  _make_ me believe that my vision is a lie; that you will be standing by my side after the world ends. When you are before me, I can believe nothing else, for you are all that is there."

     "I love you." she whispered. "So much. And as much as I wish to take it back, to spare you this pain, I would not be here without you. I am so torn, Leliana...so lost and adrift and conflicted." she took a steadying inhale, dried her eyes, and looked at me. "What do  _you_ wish?" she asked. "I will go forward, no matter the cost or consequence, because I must. You should not be forced to watch your vision made reality. What is your desire, Leliana?"

      _A life with you. A life that we spend together, into our golden years...but that is not to be. That hope never, in truth, existed. I am nothing but a dreamer, a foolish bard enamored of legends. But you are my heart; you are my home, and I will not be orphaned again, my love._

     "My desire," I smiled, for sorrow and for hope, "is to keep this ring on my finger, and to keep its promise. My desire is to walk through hell at yourside. I want the hands that guide you into death to be the ones that held you in the dark. I," my voice cracked, "I want to kiss you good-night for the final time..."

     She wrapped me in her arms, holding me, protecting me. We spilled our tears together, bleeding from the wounds that would never, could never, be mended. Salem kissed me, and though she had said she would take everything back, had she known her fate, I knew that I never would. 

     "It is worth it." I whispered, unwilling to hide what I believed, from her or from me. "It is worth it."

     Her eyes ignited with the same passion that had been in them from the beginning, the same fierce love, now tempered with sorrow. She replied with her hands, stripping the walls between us, melding our skin and bodies together, wringing pleasure from our scars...forgiving fate. 

     As we fell together for what I knew was the final time, I spoke my last coherent thought, pressing it against her lips like a marriage vow. 

     "I regret nothing."


	9. Dealing with Witches

**Salem**

     _"Salem." an insistent voice; one that lingers and grates against my ears like an echoing gong. "Ssssssaaaaalemmmmm."_

_"Leave me be." I mumble, turning over in my bed._

_Dawn will break too soon. I do not want to face it._

_"Salem!"_

* * *

     "What!?" I opened my eyes and stared at whoever had provided my rude awakening. 

     My eyes adjusted to the dim light of the banked coals and I made out a svelte silhouette that could only belong to one woman that I knew. Why Morrigan had awakened me from a dead sleep I did not know, but curiosity piqued and awakened me further. 

     "Salem, come with me." Morrigan whispered and my head cleared from the shock. "I need to speak with you."

      _Oh, Maker. AGain? Yet another needy hand knocking at my door? I am near spent of words and promises. All I wished for a was a night alone with Leliana. And yet day will break; interruptions will come. It is what is left of my limited fate._

     "'Tis urgent, warden, and of great importance. I suggest you hasten, or be worse off for your hesitation."

     "Fine." I waved her away and extricated myself from the bed, finding my clothes that had been scattered around the room. 

     I glanced back at the woman I loved, whose slumber remained undisturbed. Her face looked soft and untroubled upon the pillow, and I wanted to remember her this way. I wanted to remember how she had looked underneath me as we made love, as her eyes closed and her mouth parted, breathing my name as she crashed over the edge of climax. I wanted to remember her joy above all else...for I was the one who would destroy it. 

     Once I had dressed, I followed the witch out of my room and into hers. I stood there, rubbing the grit from my eyes, watching her. She moved about the room adjusting and straightening various items...acting not at all like Morrigan. 

     "Speak now lest I lose my patience and leave." I warned her. 

     She turned to me, amber eyes dark, swimming with the arcane. While she had always been an intimidating woman, she looked positively not of this earth. 

     "Be not so quick to threaten me, warden. An angered witch's favor is not easily regained."

      _She is speaking...acting...much like she did when we first met. She has changed drastically since then. Something is amiss. But what?_

     "Forgive me." I amended, watching as she settled in a shadowed corner, staring at me from underneath a wave of midnight air. 

     "This is not so easy a subject to broach as I may have thought." she muttered. 

     "What subject?" I asked, hoping to smooth the way for her. 

     "I know, Salem." she narrowed her eyes and the corner of her mouth lifted just enough to be menacing. "I know the warden's fate. I have known for...quite some time."

      _Andraste's ass!_ I swore, clenching my hands into fists.  _Has everyone known what awaits me save myself and Alistair? First Leliana's revelation...and now this? Wynne might have known too; in the Circle one has little to do but study the histories of magic and **surely** the warden's Joining would have been found there._ 

    I laughed, bitter. "Now it would seem my night is complete. How did you find out?"

     "Flemeth's purpose." Morrigan answered, averting her gaze. "Why the batty bitch sent me with you in the first place. She  _intended_ for this, Salem. I would not be surprised if she  _orchestrated_ it..." her tone grew dark, "she had more knowledge than it would seem. She knew I would find her old grimoire in the mage's tower; knew it would lead me to find out about her barbarous construction of an eternal life, and  _knew_ that I would get down upon my haughty knees and beg for your assistance in  _wiping her out._ All for this...all for this moment."

      _Flemeth? She is dead. I pierced her dragon's heart with my own sword; watched her vanish into ether. There is nothing left of her and yet...the legends of the Witch of the Wilds go back further than the written histories. Could she have somehow survived death?_

     "All for what, Morrigan?"

     "'Tis my foolishness that brought this upon me." she sniffed and straightened. "But 'twould seem that the true treasure was not, as I thought, Flemeth's lost grimoire...but her spellbook that had been beneath my nose the entirety of my life. 'Twas there I found the secret that she wished me to discover."

     "What secret?" I asked. 

     "How to avert the warden's fate." Morrigan once more turned her eyes to mine and they were filled with that emotion most foreign to her...hope. "How to cheat death. I would have worked the ritual myself, without your knowledge, had there not been a certain factor...one that will require your diplomatic skills."

      _A way out? A way free? But...this way would have come from Flemeth. There is darkness here, on the tip of every word that promises redemption. I must know more._

     "Explain. Everything." I ordered. 

     "'Tis...'tis a ritual." Morrigan looked down at the ground. "A different manner of Joining, if you will permit me the expression."

     "Speak in words, witch." I growled, tired of mages and their incessant cryptics, whether it be Morrigan's secrets or Wynne's wisdom. 

     "Well, if you must have truth at the edge of a sword, so be it." the witch sighed and moved in front of the fire, as though she could soak up its warmth and bravery. "Sex. With a warden, a warden that has not borne the taint for long. From our union, a child would be conceived, a child that would bear the taint of his father. When the archdemon dies, its essence would seek out that of the child, instead of the warden, but the soul of the child, so new in its formation, would remain undamaged. The child would live, cohabiting with the soul of an old god...and the warden who struck the killing blow would be free to live their life as they choose."

      _A **child?**_ I wondered, horrorstruck by the mere thought of Morrigan as a mother.  _Conceiving a tainted child so that **I** might live...burdening an innocent with the ink-dark soul of an ancient god? Who could countenance such a thought...who could live with themselves after allowing this to happen?_ 

     "So you came to me...spoke to me of this, why?" I asked. 

     Morrigan bit her lip and sighed. "I...I..." her mouth twisted in a grimace, "'twould pain me to see you die, warden. I have become quite...not averse...to your presence in my life. Perhaps I even consider you a friend."

      _Morrigan uses me as I use her,_ I recalled the words I once said to Leliana,  _a means to an end. This confession...is filled with hearth, reluctant though it may be. Perhaps her venture is not far from sanity after all._

     I sighed. "I'm certain Riordan would not be averse to your overtures. He is nearing the end of his life and..."

     "And has borne the taint too long." Morrigan stared at the fire and I could have sworn I saw a blush in her cheeks. "It would...it would have to be Alistair. Though...'tis true that if you were a man, I would prefer this be done by you. Alas, it cannot be."

      _How very...disturbingly intriguing._ "You would be willing to..."

     "Fornicate with the buffoon?" she asked, cocking her head like an inquisitive bird. "But of course. 'Tis required for the magic. And if it is for magic, 'tis not I who does the choosing. Rather, I am forced into the situation."

     "He would never agree to it, Morrigan."

      _And I would never ask him to. Maker's breath, you **despise** each other...and Alistair has never...well...fornicated, as you say, with anyone. This is preposterous. And it reeks of dark magic. Heavens, hells, and angels, it may even be blood magic. She reckoned it to the Joining, which is done with blood. I...I could  **never** conscience that._ 

     "You know quite well that Alistair would do anything for you." Morrigan wheedled. "You have but one chance for this, my warden. If you decline my offer, I will leave tonight, with no word to the others. If you accept, I will need your aid in persuading Alistair. It is for his life as well, for without you, his destiny ends in blood. I have foreseen it."

      _I need time! Maker's fucking breath, woman! Must everything be so...so... **absolute** with you? This is maddening! The chance to live,_ I stared at the tantalizing thought, the hope held out to me on a silver strand.  _The chance to continue my life with Leliana, to see the world rebuild itself after the Blight. No...No...I could not do this...what if this **is** some sort of diabolical conspiracy between Morrigan and Flemeth. What if, even know, the witch is witholding information from me? _    

 _And then there is the matter of…repercussions. I suffer **today**  from the actions of an ancestor whose name has been forgotten, it was that long ago. If I make this pact, this deal with…_I looked into Morrigan's unnatural eyes, remembered the skills she bore, a magic no man had seen inside the Circle, and shivered.  _…this deal with a demon…what will happen? Will the next generation live under the thrall of the man/god this union would create? Would something **worse**  than a Blight come about? No…No. I cannot think of what it is I most desire…and that is to tell Morrigan to wait while I go to Alistair and beg him on bended knee to do this for me. I must consider the future. I must preserve the world…now and further ahead._

 _I have to die_.

     "No." I whispered, shaking as I felt hope vanish. "I…I thank you, Morrigan, but I cannot. I cannot do this to you, to Alistair…to Ferelden."

     "Then consider Leliana." the witch smiled, feral, gouging her fingers into the gaping hole in my heart. "What if she knew you had the chance to live and denied it; denied a life with her, all for the sake of the nobility of a dead family. Because you, the invincible, unshakable Salem Cousland, were  _afraid_. Little will be lost if you accept my offer, warden. Much will be if you decline it."

     I pinched the bridge of my nose as a thousand futures played out behind my eyes. As dreams crescendoed and died. As my heart broke for the final time.

 _No matter the cost,_  I thought,  _I will do what must be done. Leliana…forgive me._

     "Very well, witch." I walked to Morrigan, making certain that she looked into my eyes, saw the promise of death within. "I have my answer. And you may dislike what I am next to tell you…"

 


	10. Dreams of Past and Future

**Leliana**

_"Tell me a story." an old request, one I have heard many times before._

_Only now, it is an older voice that speaks; a voice from my childhood...the voice belonging to the hand that guided me to those who taught the art of song, dance, and poetry. The hand that guided me out of love. A love that she was not required to feel._

_"Cecile?" I question, turning to her._

_Her face is blurred; memories fade over time and faces lose their definition. But I know the voice, the kindness in her eyes, the cadence of her accent, and the touch of her hand as it reaches out and rests upon my shoulder._

_"Who else would it be, Leliana? How many voices have spoken to you as strongly as my own?" she smiles, a carefully controlled measur eof approval._

_I remember practicing, straining to earn one of her rare smiles, to sleep another night in comfort, knowing I had earned my place in her affections. She had been kind, but not maternal. Approval and affection were things that must be purchased with skill and dedication. And it was such a thing that had led me to believe that Marjolaine loved me...for she demanded the same things._

_"Very few." I return Cecile's smile._

_"Then tell me their stories; sing me their songs. Or have you lost your taste for that, my dear? I see the calluses on your hands, Leliana. The splits in your nails." she shakes her head and makes noises of disapproval between her teeth. "This is not the life I fashioned for you. Not who I taught and encouraged you to be. What have you done to yourself, my girl?"_

_"I am afraid I strayed from the path you set me on, Cecile."_

_I hang my head, still withered by the edge of disappointment in her tone. Some habits can never be broken, so deeply are they embedded in the soul and psyche._

_"I can see that, my girl. Who has done this to you? Whose weapons have damaged your lovely hands; whose orders have caused your voice to rasp with exhaustion? Why are there circles of sleepless nights below your eyes? And do not even ask me to comment on that tangled rat's nest of what once might have been hair. I raised a lady fit for Orlesian nobility. I raised a child who could break the Maker's heart with her voice. Where did she go?"_

_"She is here still." I promise my benefactor, even though I have not been able to find that child for many a year now. Marjolaine attempted to kill her, or at least shape her in a more sadistic mold._

_"She is changed." Cecile's warm brown eyes darken. "There is blood on your hands, my girl. Your mother wished a better life for you. You had such promise, such potential...it is why I took you under my wing, though no blood bound us together. Why now do you spit in the face of your heritage?"_

_"Cecile...my life is my own." I defend myself, my decisions; the roads that have brought me to this point._

_**The tortures and horros that I endured because you let me go out into the world untrained but for songs and stories. You did not raise a child, you raised a caged bird, who leapt at her first chance for freedom and found herself enslaved to a crueler mistress than the one she had escaped.**_

_"Your eyes were bright as violets once." Cecile caresses my cheek in a motherly fashion. "Full of wide inquiry and zest for life. Your mind could gather no fill of legends and song. You wrapped yoruself in books and tales of heroes. Where are you now, my girl? Where are you now?"_

_"I am still immersed in the tales of heroes." I look into the distance, at the city spread below us._

_It is a city in flames. Smoke rises from crumbling stone towers. Cries of the fallen, the injured, the grieving and bereft reach my ears and I shudder, for I know that fate is soon to be. That this dream, this sight, will become a reality and I will be in the midst of it all._

_"I am following one of pure heart and bright steel. Tomorrow, we will be in that city, Cecile. Tomorrow, we will fight to save all of Thedas."_

_"And this is why your skin is torn and roughed by winds? You thought yourself suited to a life of hardship and trials?" Cecile questions me._

_"I am suited to it." I whisper, thinkin gof the lives I have aided in preserving, of Salem's heated professions that, without me, she would never have reached this point. "I could not be bound in marble halls forever, Cecile. The life you had planned for me...it was...beautiful. It was all that any Orlesian girl and woman could dream of. But my dreams have changed, and in that change, I have managed to find greater beauty in darker places."_

_"Come with me, my girl." Cecile extends her hand and I take it._

_She leads me into the burning city. The acrid smoke catches in my breath and makes me cough. Blood scents the air, mixing with the flames, filling my senses with the scent of hot metal. I stumble over the corpses and gaze upon the dead. Men...women...tiny children who have never commited a crime against the world._

_"This is where you find your greater beauty?" Cecile asks. "How is there beauty in this? How is there a single thing worthy preserving?"_

_**Because this is the aftermath of the actions of heroes. This is what the legends never mention, the songwriters never write, the tales never tell. This is the hell of reality, Cecile. That which you locked me away from for so many years.**_

_"This is what I have been fighting, and will continue to fight, to prevent." I tell the woman who took my mother's place, providing for me, caring for me, in her way. "This is what I and those I love struggle against."_

_"Heroes die, Leliana." Cecile's eyes fill with tears. "You were meant for a smaller life than this. A quiet one, filled with beauty and joy. Surrounded by your children in your old age, when you would walk into the Maker's grace after knowing nothing of hardship and tragedy. Such is the life I wished for you...and your mother did as well."_

_A single tear falls from my eye. "Heroes die, Cecile." I whisper, thinking of Salem's fate. "I am...not one of them."_

* * *

     "Leliana." my name, spoken in a voice that holds nothing but love, nothing but promise. 

     I awakened from my dream, feeling the hand clasped with mine. My eyes roved over the beautiful blue scarring, the single white line where this hand had been pierced through, saving me from torment. I gazed into Salem's eyes, feeling my own wet with tears...tears not caused by dreaming. 

     "Yes, love?"

     "Scouts have reported in." Salem whispered, stroking her marred hand through my hair. "The archdemon is moving towards Denerim. It is time, dear heart."

     She did not look away...Salem never looked away. Not when she had watched her father bleed out and her mother slaughtered by Howe's men. Not when Cauthrien demanded her surrender. Not when Loghain challenged her to a death-duel. And not now, as she looked the future in the face...and saw her fate.

      _Then I shall not look away either. I am by your side, my warden. Until the bitterest of ends._

 


	11. Battle Cries and Loving Lies

**Salem**

    I waited in the courtyard, watching those who had become close to me, who had been made into my family, assemble. Alistair stood beside me in gleaming armor, face set in stone. He knew the stakes of what we next faced. Tainted, warden blood coursed through our veins, screaming, burning...calling us toward our inescapable fate. Somewhere, in the distance of our minds, I knew that we listened to the same song: a chilling cry in a voice that could never have been human. 

      _It is the song of blade and blood; of destruction and chaos run rampant. It is the cry of a god seeking to recreate a twisted form of its heaven on this earth. Where all are subjugated...where all free will is dead. Perhaps, to the ears of the darkspawn, this song is beautiful. Perhaps, when the Calling comes, that is why the wardens answer. Because the beauty of it frightens them...and they must end their lives lest they lose their minds in a swirling pit of insane grandeur. I do not know if such an answer has been found, and I know I shall not find it._

_This is **my** Calling. _

Zevran entered the courtyard, leading a spirited horse whose eyes reminded me of the assassin himself. In Antiva, a life saved as a life that pledged itself to its savior. For some insane reason, Zevran considered me his savior. But he had been loyal, a spirit of levity in dark times, an encouragement when it seemed the next moment held nothing but more pain. Whatever life he would find for himself next, I worried for him the least. Those of his particular mindset never lacked for joy and beauty, for they created. 

     He nodded to me and smiled like a dagger's blade. I clenched the bridle of my horse tighter, telling my body not to shake, forcing my heart to slow its frantic beat. 

      _I am their leader. I cannot quake. I cannot falter. I must go forward into whatever hell will wash over us like a tidal wave._

     "Hey, warden!" Oghren's gruff voice turned my attention to the stables, where the dwarf found himself precariously astride a pony. "Whaddaya figure this fer? The end of the world...dwarves ridin' horses. That oughta scare the scales off the archdemon, eh?"

     I smiled as the dwarf quaffed from his ubiquitous flask and shook my head. Oghren could always return to Orzammar, should he so desire. Bhelen would turn no dwarves away. I pursed my lips, taking time to wonder if I had made the proper decision in the choosing of the dwarven crown. Harrowmont had by far been the better man, but Bhelen had the future of his people ever in his mind, even if his goals were for self-advancement. 

      _No. I cannot worry over what is done. All of life might end within the next sunrise and sunset. I have never dreamed of failing this quest, but I cannot deny the possibility._

     Sten snorted at the hysterical appearance of Oghren on horseback and I sighed. I still did not know what to think of the qunari. He had disparaged me for freeing him and questioned me incessantly, decried my performance in the field due to my womanhood, and stood always at the outskirts, never taking part...yet...

      _The beautiful engravings on the swords I carry. The symbols, not of my house, but of me...who I was, who I have become. I do not know if Sten will return with the answer for his Arishok, but I do hope that Par Vollen, his paradise, will be wiating for him with open arms when this is over. Should he not survive...I do not know if the qunari even honor their dead. Why would they? Everything for them is so matter-of-face, set in stone, unassailable. No matter. If he should fall, he will be honored in our ways, for being a hero among us._

_Arrangements have been made...Maker's fucking blood. **Arrangements.** As if that is all they are. As if I did not spend these last few days preparing for the burials of those I have come to love. The written instructions have been left with Isolde, to be carried out by Teagan if Eamon, too, should fall. _

     The ground shuddered beneath me as Shale entered the courtyard, swatting at an unfortunate carrier pigeon. I watched the golem at war with her most hated enemy and another smile broke over my face. She would always find a place to be for the rest of her natural life. At least now she was alive, inasmuch as a stone golem could live. It was a better fate than captivity. 

     "Your thoughts are dark, child." Wynne slid to my side, movements silent. "They are hovering in your eyes and threatening to drown you."

     I took the hands of the woman who had been my teacher, my healer...my mother. Squeezing them, I confided the truth. 

     "I am afraid, Wynne. All this time, all this preparation. Now the test is at last upon us and I feel so very ill-prepared."

     "You are not alone, Salem." she answered. "There are others who know the terror of time on loan. Whatever may come, I wish you to know this. YOu have given me the greatest gift that they young can bestow upon the old."

     "And what is that?" I asked as her voice caught. 

     "Hope." her watery blue eyes shone. "You give me hope, child. Hope that the generations of the future will remember the wisdom of their ancestors, and create their own wisdom to pass down. Hope that love can still flourish in times of trial. The Maker has blessed me, Salem. Blessed me with an unfathomable gift. Had I perished, truly perished, in the Circle tower, I would have died an old woman, afraid of the future. Now, whatever may come, I can depart in peace. Thank you, my girl. Bless you."

     I hugged her, feeling her hands move behind my back to wipe away the tears she did not wish to show befor eme. I pulled away only with Leliana descended the steps, seeking me out. I went to the woman I loved, filling her hands with my own, cherishing the strength and calm and heat. 

     "Are...are we ready?" she asked, meeting my eyes with a gaze as steady as the morning sun and a voice hesitant as a midnight wind. Equal parts vulnerability and strength. Every part beautiful. 

     "Eamon sent birds to the Dalish, the dwarves, and the mages." I informed her, speaking past the knot in my throat. "We are ready to ride for Denerim."

     "As you say." she whispered, and I knew she meant the words as I had ever meant them. A declaration of love. 

     "Leliana..."

     She ignored me, scanning the crowd, seeing the retinue of familiar faces, and the stalwart gazes of Eamon's men, ready to fight for their homeland until the better end. 

     "Where is Morrigan?" she asked, and my heart foundered. 

     I set my shoulders and cleared my throat. "She will not be joining us." I answered, and Leliana let it be. 

     In truth, she had never thought much of the witch, and that Morrigan would abandon us now was no surprise, at least, not one worth exerting anger over. 

     "I see." she nodded and I released a breath I did not realize I had held. 

      _The reasons for Morrigan's absence are not something she should know. Not, at least, until the end._

     "Well, my warden." she smiled, and it was for me alone. "The march to the abyss begins. As with all legends, is this not the time to make a rousing speech?"

     "I love you, Leliana." I whispered, feeling my heart crack. "No matter...no matter what happens, what truth comes to light, remember that. I beg you."

     Her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. "None of that." she pressed her fingers against my lips. "We are heroes, Salem. We must not break with words of love; we must not dance with futures that have no guarantee. Be who you must be, in this moment, and I swear, I will follow you."

      _You are all that is good in this world._

     I watched her depart and take her place beside Wynne. She extended a hand for Burrow to perch his head beneath. My brother joined them, even though he would not be riding out to battle with us. I had made certain of that. I could not afford to risk losing him as well. 

      _Even if it is selfish, a Cousland must always remain in Highever. For the sake of our people._

     "Look around you." I spoke, calm, hearing my voice echoing over the cobblestones. "Gaze into the eyes of your brothers in arms; remember those you are leaving behind. This—this is why we fight. For those we hold in our hands, in our hearts. For those from whom death will take us." 

     I gazed directly into Leliana's eyes, knowing that my own were wet with tears I could not afford to shed. 

     "We face insurmountable odds. We go to greet a god cast down from heaven. This battle is not for the Maker's glory! This battle is not for king and country! We fight, because we must! We fight,"  _I fight,_ "because we  _ **love!** " _

    I lowered my head and let my voice die as I breathed a prayer.  _Maker, forgive me. Let me see her again. After the world ends, let me see her again._

     I descended the stairs and mounted my horse, watching as my companions and Eamon's soldiers did the same. The gates screamed as they opened and I drew my sword, purposefully choosing the one Sten had engraved with the Nightingale. 

     " **Forward!** " I cried, rallying those whose hearts, like mine, beat with fear. " **Into dark eternity!** "

     I spurred my horse onward, leading many to their deaths. 

      _I will look you in the eye,_ I promised the archdemon who waited for me,  _and I will laugh. Because you have no knowledge of what drives me. What I fight for, you have lost all comprehension of. I fight for Leliana. For us. For **love.** And love, my enemy, cannot be killed. _


	12. First Steps Toward Death

**Leliana**

    The city burned, looking much the same as it had in my dream. Clouds shrouded the sky, leaving it dark, stained with soot and drenched with foreboding. Unlike the dream, this was real. The acrid air caught in my throat, the screams of the panicked and wounded rang in my ears, drowning out reason, drowning out calm. 

     I glanced to Salem, watching her mouth purse in a thin, grim line. The dark circles beneath her eyes troubled me, but there was nothing that I could do to alleviate them. She had done the impossible...again, driving a battalion of soldiers from Redcliffe to Denerim in the span of two days, barely eating, never resting. 

     We had fought, during one of the brief periods of rest she had granted us. I had begged her to sleep, to catch her breath before we reached Denerim and poured all of our strength into the fight against the archdemon. Her eyes had filled with death and she had laughed, mocking me. 

     What good would it do, she had asked me, and I had gone silent, knowing the meaning behind her question. 

      _What good would it do, since I am fated to die? What good would it do? Let me live with the sun on my face while I yet may. Let me live._

     My warden raised a hand, halting the formation of soldiers. She dismounted and stretched the kinks from her muscles. Alistair followed, looking worried. I remained where I was, afraid to move, afraid to take one step further into the burning city. The men of Redcliffe sagged behind us, many leaning on their weapons for support. There had not been enough time. There would never be enough time. 

      _I will say farewell to something that should have been forever. I will see an indomitable light extinguished. There is armor over my heart, my love. I am secure in my protection. I will weep for my loss, but not for you, as you would wish it. I will not scar your memory with bitter tears. I will cherish what we were._

_But there will be no legend. There will be no tale. I could not bring myself to craft such a thing. You have often begged for words...and I never told you. I never told you that you make my mind go blank, that you drive all eloquence from me, that you freed my tormented heart. I never spoke a dishonest word to you but in anger, my warden, and I am woven from dishonesty and stiched together with lies._

_I owe you all that I am; for that, there are no words._

     I watched as Alistair and Salem ascended the stairway of an all but demolished guard tower. Salem rested her hand on the future king's shoulder and he flinched, but strode forward regardless. I could see, in the offhand touch that she gave him, that she was shedding her mantle of leadership and power. The paradigm had shifted...because Salem would ensure Alistair's survival at all costs...and she would die. 

     "Men of Redcliffe, men of Ferelden," Alistair spoke, his voice carrying through the smoke, through the cries of the besieged, "I know you are tired. I know that you stand here, before Ferelden's greatest battleground, at the end of mortal strength. But I ask that you carry on. I ask that you go forward. I..." his voice fell flat as he sought for inspiration. 

     He looked to the soldiers before him, soldiers who would have him for their king. He saw the exhaustion in their faces, the steel in their eyes, and looked for something to offer them. He looked to the sky and to the earth to find them hope, for something to lift from them the fog of worry and work and make their spirits calm and prepared for battle. His search ended when his eyes looked, at last, as we all did, to Salem. 

     "This woman!" he shouted now, making certain that his words were heard. "This woman has done what no other thought possible! She watched as all she loved was taken from her! She was forced into a life of uncertainties and tribulations that have no definitions, so encompassing are they! Even so, she did not falter! Even so, she stands before you, sword at the ready! I have watched her cut down injustice! I have witnessed as she selflessly shed blood for this land! I have seen her blinded, and still she cut a dragon from the sky!"

     A rush of disbelieving whispers rustled through the men. Whispers of those who wished to believe, but were not quite certain that they should. Warriors who worried that their leaders were creating falsehoods to drive them foward...into certain death. 

      _But it is true,_ I thought, remembering how Salem had lost her sight for me...how we had fought for the Urn of Sacred Ashes...and how I had run from her, shattering her heart against the stone and ice of the Frostback Mountains.  _Still, she found the strength to carry on, to fulfill the mission. And when we returned to Denerim, she found herself at the mercy of Loghain's dungeons. She has survived more than any man or woman has a right, and there is a litany of scars on her body attesting to the truth of these bombastic tales. Every triumph has received its measure in blood and...and most of it shed has been hers...for Salem would bleed for all of us, if she could._

     "This woman," Alistair continued speaking, "has fought for all of you! Her drive and determination have brought us here against all odds! There is still time to  _save_ the city! There is still time to  _wipe this abomination from the face of Thedas!_ Because that heart that beats within this woman is the same as the hearts that beat within you and me! It is Ferelden.  _And. It. Is. **Strong!** "_ 

     A thunderous roar rose from the men. Shields and swords were pounded together in a cacophonic battle cry, a martial beat of hope and desperation. Alistair turned to Salem in silent question. 

      _Is there anything you wish to say?_ His eyes asked of her.  _Any final encouragement you would wish to impart?_

     Salem's eyes screamed out, meeting mine as she refused Alistair's offer. I smiled, fortifying my heart and attempting to lend her my strength. 

      _Of course she will say nothing,_ I rationalized.  _She wishes to finish this as she began it. Humble. Claiming no greatness; denying all heroism. As far as she is concerned, Salem is doing what must be done, for there is no other to do it. There is no heart so strong as hers in this land...and it kills me that hers is the heart that must be broken, not just in spirit, but in flesh._

     Salem mounted her horse and we rode towards the city gates, closer to the stench of sulfur, death, and blood. Closer to our impending doom. 

      _Closer,_ my heart skipped and my armor faltered,  _to the end that I have foreseen. Victory, no matter the cost._

     Salem reined her horse in alongside mind, looking at me with the strangest gaze, a half smile on her face. I wanted to speak, to somehow lighten the present with words that could drive away the future, but my mouth had run dry; my words had burned. 

     I was no bard here, no weaver of legends and teller of tales. I was a woman who had come into the world with empty hands and a lunatic claim. My hands had been filled with such beauty...but that was ended. 

      _And the end, as every true bard knows, is merely a new beginning. Beginning again. Thus it shall be with me...and my empty hands._

     Understanding my lack of speech, my barren throat, my shrieking heart, Salem reached out her hand. I took it in my own, knowing that, at the end of this day, my hands would be empty. But they were not now. Hers were not, in this moment. This time, when surrounded by the flames of trial...she would not be alone. She would  _never_ be alone again. 

      _I will make certain of that._


	13. Dividing to Conquer

**Salem**

    I swung off of my horse's saddle as we approached the gates of Denerim. Small packs of darkspawn were pitted against Denerim's city guards. I turned back to Redcliffe's soldiers, who had begun to feel the fever of battle. I could see it in the stance of their bodies. Purpose had driven away exhaution and given them the will to fight for their country and their people and their lives. 

    "Help where you can!" I gave the order, pulling my swords and running for the gates, all else forgotten. 

     The stench of death did not register in my mind. I did not hear the licking of the flames or the cries of the innocent. I could not let such things dissuade me, even though it tore at my heart. I had one purpose here, and one alone. 

      _To kill a god. To save a country. To bring about the vision for which I was named. Peace. And if I must die for such a thing, for such a dream, then so be it.  
_

     "Warden Cousland!" a familiar voice barked and I strode towards it, our past history forgotten. 

     "Tell me the situation." I ordered, moving towards where a small command center had been established. 

     "Darkspawn hordes raided the city at sunrise. Thus far, there has been no sign of the archdemon." Cauthrien's eyes raked over me, as though assessing my fitness for the battle ahead. 

     "Then why in hell are the gates of the city shut?" I asked, livid. "Why did you leave the men and women of Denerim to suffer and die while the soldiers fight off what they can outside the gates in relative safety!?"

     "We've evacuated the city, warden." Cauthrien spared a moment to seem affronted. "There are those who would not leave; I cannot take responsibility for them. The darkspawn tunneled in, somehow, from the bloody Deep Roads. There's no end to them in the city, Salem. Our only option was to close them in. If we open the gates, we will not be able to withstand the force."

     "A small group then." Riordan suggested, coming to stand beside me, as did Alistair. "Four or five of us. Let us into the city to deal with the darkspawn that are there. Leave the rest of the men at the gates...the archdemon will attempt to surround us, but his forces will be routed when he himself falls."

     Cauthrien nodded her assent and agreement. "I can give the order to open the gates. But it must be soon. Choose your companions quickly, warden."

     "Riordan, Wynne, Leliana, and Sten." I listed the names without hesitation. Burrow yipped behind me and pushed at the back of my knee with his head. I smiled. "And Burrow."

     "Good enough." Cauthrien nodded, shouting to various soldiers to give her aid. 

     "There will be more allies coming to our aid." I informed her, trusting that those who had sworn to uphold their ancient vows to the wardens would, in fact, do so. "When they arrive, let them into the city, little by little. Redcliffe's soldiers will remain with you here, under Alistair's command, and Arl Eamon is on his way with another battalion. I leave Denerim's guard in your charge."

     "As you order, warden." Cauthrien placed her fist to her heart in a knight's show of fealty. 

     Her eyes softened as she looked at me and I realized that they spoke what words she was too proud to loose from her lips. She regretted what she had done to me, the wreck that she had made of my body under orders. The strength she had stolen on the premise of a lie. 

      _Apology accepted, Cauthrien. Serve your country well this day, as you have always wished to do._

     Those I had chosen came forward, surrounding me...knowing that their task was to keep me and Riordan alive until one of us destroyed the archdemon. I felt no fear as I looked into their eyes. All foreboding left me as I gazed upon the woman I loved. 

      _I will not lose. No. I **cannot** lose. I will make this world once again a safe place for your beauty and music. I will bleed and breathe my last to ensure that the future has you in it. _

     "So this is it?" Alistair's eyes flashed as he approached me. "This is where you leave me behind,  _again_?"

     "This is where our paths diverge." I nodded. "I am not leaving you behind, Alistair. It is you who are leaving me. As soon as I enter those gates, you put me from your thoughts. Do you understand?"

     He said nothing; crossed his arms and stared at the ground. 

      _"Do. You. Understand?"_ I asked. 

      "I do not like this, Salem." he nodded his understanding and voiced his anger. "We've been through too much together for you to toss me aside now."

      _Beautiful man. I am in no way tossing you aside. It is as I said before. You are Ferelden's future. I am her past. I will fade, with the anachronism of my nobility and beliefs. Let me go into the place where I belong. Our people need you._

     I wrapped my arms around him in a brief, armored embrace, kissing him on the cheek. 

     "If I were going to toss you aside, Alistair, I would have done it so long before now."

     He laughed at that, and the ache in my spirit eased. "I am quite certain you would have. You've changed me, Salem Cousland. I'm not quite certain I like it...nor am I certain if I will forgive you."

     "Whether or not you like it, you must learn to accept it." I placed my hand on his shoulder. "We were not born to do great deeds, but we have done them, and shall continue to do so. Now, my king, save your city."

     "And what will you do?" he asked, watching me, feeling the others I would leave behind surround him in a show of support. 

     I smiled. "I have a god to slay."

     As if on cue, the rising sun faded from our view. The earth trembled as an unholy shriekd drilled into our ears. Men and darkspawn both collapsed to the ground, the former in fear, the latter in awe and worship. I glanced up, hearing the cry transform into a plaintive, heart-wrenching melody. Tears set into my eyes as I watched the archdemon's wings blot out the light of the sun. 

      _Well met, my enemy,_ I thought.  _I am coming for you. Sing your songs while you may, for soon, I shall tear them from your throat._

     Riordan strapped a borrowed shield across his left arm; Wynne set a glow of light about her staff. Sten took up his Asala, his very soul, ready to fight and die, if need be. Leliana set the string to her bow. Burrow growled at the gates of the city, as though willing them to open so that he might tear out the throat of our enemy with his jaws. 

     I glanced to Cauthrien and nodded. I could waste no more time with words. There were no more farewells left within me. Those I cared for most, save Alistair, would be with me at the very end. That would be enough for me. 

      _Live up to your end of this,_ I spoke to myself as the gates of Denerim screamed.  _And perhaps you can rewrite destiny. Much has been given...much has been sacrificed. Somehow, it will equalize in the Maker's eyes. I must believe in that. I must trust..._

     A crack appeared in the gates and I rushed forward, followed by the ones who had been with me since the beginning. An arrow whistled through my hair as I entered and I arced my blades out in a twin strike, feeling the new swords slice through darkspawn armor as though it were made of water. 

     Metal shrieked on metal and all else was forgotten as swords caught flesh and the stench of darkspawn blood filled the air. We were trapped in a city overrun by the damned. The archdemon flew above the city, screaming its songs of encouragement. 

     There were those I missed at my side already. Zevran's braggadocios counting of enemies felled. Morrigan's acidic insults against the weakness of our enemies...and allies, for that matter. Alistair's calm, steady eyes as we cut down our opponents together. Oghren's drunken wielding of an axe turning into an impossibly efficient berserker's rage. 

      _Nowhere to go,_ I thought as my blades operated independently of my mind, cutting down my foes. The gates of Denerim thundered closed behind us, and I heard the bars being set.  _No way out but to fight._

     "Salem!" Riordan shouted, bringing my attention to him. HIs eyes were alight with battle-fever and...fear. "Salem," he spoke again, somewhat calmer. "He knows."

     I did not need to ask to know that my fellow warden spoke of the archdemon. 

     "He knows we are here...and why we have come."

      _Maker's blood-soaked breath._


	14. The Dragon's Daughter

**Leliana**

    "Sten," Salem shouted, her voice carrying and reaching our ears even in the midst of chaos, "eyes to the sky!"

      _Riordan said the archdemon was aware of us...of them. Wynne, myself, and the qunari are not important to it. We are not the ones who can end its life, its dark dream, permanently. Salem has always been willing to pay in her blood. She is now willing to pay with her life._

     I set an arrow against my bowstring and fired randomly into the streets, knowing the missile would strike true. Our enemies were thick, and no reinforcements would be coming. We had been sealed in...Denerim might well have been our final tomb. 

     _A fitting tomb._

    "Leliana, to your left!" Wynne called, drawing my eyes to the assembling genlock archers.

     I nocked another arrow, certain that, before this battle's end, I would have to steal ammunition from my foes. A spiral of unnatural light spooled around the tip of my arrowhead and I fired into the genlocks, watching as lightning exploded from the arrow and brought down, not just the one I had struck, but the rest of them as well. 

     "The demon has taken to the sky." Sten warned us, his voice calm, implacable, and impossibly qunari. 

     "Take cover!" Riordan shouted and we ducked into various and alleyways, attempting to preserve ourself from whatever attack might come. 

     A massive wind crashed down upon us with hurricane force as the archdemon's wings beat against the earth. The stone wall at my back trembled with the force of the dragon's earsplitting cry. 

     " _Wynne!_ " Salem shrieked and my eyes flew to the mage, concerned about the panic in my lover's voice. 

     I looked back, watching the archdemon perch on the stone wall of Denerim, directly above me. Blocks of heavy stone rained down, torn away from the wall by the archdemon's talons. I curled into myself, awaiting the crushing of bones, the tearing of flesh, black unconsciousness and death. 

     Whie, warm light enveloped me and the pain I had been anticipating did not come. Stone crashed onto a strong, shimmering shield of magic. The rocks splintered into dust, pebbles clattering around me. I breathed a sigh of relief, shuddering once more as the archdemon shrieked. 

     "Leliana!" Salem's voice, screaming my name in frantic prayer. 

     She dashed into the street, knocked aside by the flate of a broadsword wielded by a hurlock alpha. 

      _Salem, no!_ My thoughts cried out.  _The archdemon is still here! It is your blood he cries for, not mine! Do not put your life at risk for me!_

     My lover regained her feet and her blades made quick work of the hurlock, cutting him down to the stone streets, washing them with tainted blood. She took another step towards me when the archdemon let loose another shrilling cry. 

      _This one..._ I concentrated on the cacophonous music... _is different from the others. This is not a war cry, not battle song. I have heard this somewhere before...Maker's breath...no. The dragon...in the mountains...before it released its flames._

     I looked for Wynne, hoping that I could call her attention to this; that she could bring up another shield to defend Salem from the onslaught of the demon's flames. But the mage was embattled by darkspawn. To tear away her concentration would be to end her life. 

     Time seemed to slow as the scene unfolded. Riordan roared a warning. Salem glanced to the sky and paled. Her eyes were fierce and glorious, filled with the raging intensity of her spirit and her love. But all of that spirit could not save her from immolation. The archdemon opened its massive, gaping maw and a wash of blue fire, an unholy heat, rained down into the streets. 

     Tears spilled down my cheeks as my warden crossed her arms before her face...but it would do her no good. I watched the stone of the streets melt beneath the heat of the archdemon's impossible fire and I turned away, unable to witness the woman I loved... _die before her time._

      _How **dare** you do this, Salem!_  My thoughts screamed.  _How **dare** you depart this world without having accomplished what you said you would!? You have  **never** broken your word...why do so now!? _

     "Salem!" Wynne called out, and I forced myself to open my eyes an dlook. 

      _I have to know..._

     The warden stood amid the wash of flames, the gauntlet of her right hand cracked and shattered away. I could see the blue lines of scarring from the dragon's blood. The lines began to glow across her skin and white fire bloomed from her hands and her back in dizzying starbursts that shocked me. The white flames pulsed out, licking at the archdemon's blue fire, driving it away from Salem's body and where she stood. Salem dropped to her knees, glaring up at the archdemon with eyes that screamed of waiting death. A predator's eyes. 

     The fire ended abruptly and the demon took to the sky, bellowing in rage. I rushed to Salem, feeling the heat of the melted stone seep into my leather boots, scorching the soles. Sten, Riordan, and Wynne surrounded us, keeping attackers at bay, allowing us a moment of solace in a world of anguish. 

     "Salem!" her name tore from my lips as I clutched her hand, jerking my own back as I felt the chill of her skin. "Salem, speak to me! Are you all right!? Say  _something!?"_

     "What...in hell...just happened?" she asked, breathing heavy. "Leli," her eyes filled with confusion, "how am I alive?"

     "The blood of dragons protects its own." Sten intoned. "In the slaying of one, in coating your skin with its blood, you have gained protection from other enemies of its kind, for you have earned the right to walk among them as kith and kin."

     Salem stared at her scarred hand, the blue lines of dragon's blood mingled with her own. At last, she turned her face to mine. There were thin lines of blood across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose where the shards of her gauntlet had torn skin. 

     "Are you all right?" she whispered, the fury in her eyes darkening to fear. 

     "I...I am." I breathed, stunned by the question. 

      _I am thanking the Maker for the strangest of blessings. I thought you were naught but cursed by those scars...only to find that they have saved your life from a greater foe. How strangely does the universe turn...guided by the Maker's whimsical hand._

      "Do not make me watch such a display of stupidity again, Warden Cousland!" Riordan cautioned her, vehement. "Your life is one we cannot afford to throw to the winds! Stop endangering it for  _senseless_ reasons!"

     "Of course." Salem rose from her knees, her voice dripping with bitterness. "I cannot endanger the life doomed to  _end!_ Still your  _fucking_ tongue, Riordan! I will not be upbraided for caring for those of untainted blood. I will  _not_ hold my life in priority!" _  
_

"Then you are a blithering _fool_." the senior warden condescended, staring into Salem's eyes, perhaps for the first time, so wide with apprehension did his own grow. 

     "Fool I may be, and if so, let that be my  _one_ pride." Salem drew up to her full height, standing eye to eye with the Grey Warden who did not have her respect. "I would have it written of me that I  _gave_ my life so that  _others_ might live, not that I threw good men and women into the fire so that I might walk to my destination  _over their **corpses**!"_  

     "Now is not the time for eloquent metaphor!" Riordan bellowed. "Now is the time to take that creature to the abyss!"

     "You are so eager to do this as wardens alone?!" Salem's hand shot out and slammed against Riordan's chestplate, pushing him backwards. "Find him yourself and strike that fateful, final blow!"

     Riordan began to speak as the gates of Denerim creaked open once more and a group of mages dressed in Circle robes entered. The air electrified with spells as the darkspawn fell before the might of united magic. Salem's eyes lit as she realized that we had done right, that those who had given their word had honored it. 

     "The mages." Wynne smiled, beaming. "They came. Maker be praised."

      _One ally remains faithful to their promise._ I smiled.  _Thank whatever kindness fate still possesses for us._

     "Very well." Riordan looked to the sky, tracking the archdemon's movements. "It seems he has settled for the top of Fort Drakon as his stronghold. I will meet him there. Since you are so foolishly set on saving lives already lost, there are two darkspawn generals," he closed his eyes, as though meditating, lifting his hand to direct her, "there."

     "That is the alienage gate." I spoke, remembering passing through it not so short a time ago. 

     "The generals are making the minds of this rabble more cohesive in thought, carrying out the archdemon's bidding." Riordan explained. "There will be confusion in the ranks if you bring them down."

     "Burn in hell." Salem spat as her fellow warden departed. 

      _She cannot countenance those who seemingly have no care for the lives of others. To even harbor such thoughts ia anathema to her. It is that which I first saw in her...it was that which first drew me towards her. It is such things that made me love her...it is such things that will break this world when she is no longer in it. The truly good, the truly pure, number too few._

     A young mage ran to Salem, stopping briefly to nod to Wynne. "Warden," he asked, panting, "what would you have us do?"

     "Secure this area," Salem ordered. "Finding the wounded and survivors and evacuating them is your  _first_ priority. Then bring down the darkspawn."

     "Understood." the young mage rushed off to dispense the orders to his fellows and Wynne smiled at them with sorrow, wishing that none so young would be tainted by the vision of this nightmarish devastation. 

     "To the alienage." Salem spoke, calm, unfazed by our loss of Riordan. "If I can cause dissension in their ranks, it will help the soldiers outside the city. I will not lose more lives than necessary."

     "Lead on, warden." Sten fell in line behind her and I set an arrow against my bowstring. 

      _The fighting is not yet done. Already I have nearly lost you. Please, Salem, hold strong until the final battle. Do not make me say farewell until I must. I love you...too much to...too much._

     


	15. The Cost of Defense

**Salem**

     I ducked under a hurlock's blade and brought my sword up into its unarmored neck. He fell with a guttural roar and a spurt of black, congeale blood. I heard metallic scraping against my armor as a genlock's crooked sword sought my skin. I kicked it to the ground and watched, smiling, as an arrow slice through its skull. 

     _Maker, I am blessed._

     The five of us race for the alienage gates, Burrow howling a war-cry. We downed the foes in our way, listening to the shouts of the Circle mages. Riordan had vanished into the throng of the enemy, choosing to follow his own fool's path through the streets of Denerim.

     _He does not understand,_ bitter thoughts clouded my mind. _He is a_ _warden, and has ever been surrounded by those of my own kind. He never had to bring an alliance together from a splitting country. He never had to depend on the graciousness of strangers who became friends...lovers. Good men and women willing to fight, even though their fates could have been far kinder._

     _Bastard. Condemning me for crimes not committed. I have known he would die from the moment he claimed that he would strike the final blow. And his death will not be caused by our victory. I am sorry, Riordan. Perhaps, had we met under different circumstances..._

"Salem!" Leliana cried from the alienage portcullis, "The gate is barred!"

     _Damn it!_

     "Sten!" I roared, bringing my blades in a sweeping arc through a shriek's neck. "I need your help!"

     I sheathed my swords and raced for the wheel that would open the gate. I pulled at it, gritting my teeth as I strained against the weight of the heavy wood and iron beams that sealed the gate. Dim, through the raucous chattering of the darkspawn, I heard the cries of those besieged...besieged with no exit.

     _They sealed in the elves!?_

     Fury built strength in my arms and I heard the gates begin to groan. The qunari reached me and lent his aid, his massive strength turning the wheel as though it were but a child's top. The beams retracted into the walls and the portcullis rose.

     I paused for a moment to breathe before entering the streets of Denerim's alienage. The wails of frightened children met my ears and a chill fissured through my heart.

     _I will make certain...I will make certain that Alistair's Ferelden **never** countenances such an atrocity. Even if I must come back from the grave, I swear this will Never. Happen. **Again!**_

     "Shore up that barricade!" a crisp, feminine voice met my ears. "Make certain they do not break through!"

     We ran through the streets towards the voice, stopping short as the alienage opened to what must have been their pittance of a town square, with a large, ancient tree in the center. An elf with flame-red hair stood, looking across a footbridge at a group of her people who strained to hold up ersatz fortifications against a makeshift gate.

     My blood tingled and my thoughts slurred as I sensed the generals that Riordan had warned me of. Massive, old, bristling with the power of the taint.

     _If they make it through that gate..._ I did not allow myself to finish the thought.

     "Shianni!" Leliana exclaimed, rushing to the red-haired elf. "Shianni what has happened here?"

     _They must have met when I sent Leliana to the alienage,_ I realized as the elf turned and I saw recognition flare in her eyes.

     "Mistress Leliana?" Shianni asked, disbelieving. Leliana nodded and the elf glared at me. "Am I to assume that you are the infamous Warden Cousland?"

     I kept an eye on the straining barricade, striding forward and extending my hand. The elf set aside her sharpened stave and clasped my hand in her own.

     "I am." I told her, shocked that she knew my name. "Well met."

     "Andraste's ass, warden." the elf humphed and I smile, enjoying the ferocity of her spirit. "We've no time for formalities. The blighted Denerim guards sealed the gates when they evacuated the city. I've organized what resistance I can, but we have no weapons, and that barricade will not hold much longer."

     _They will not survive when that barricade comes down,_ the stone trembled and I saw the indicative horns and looming form of an ogre.

     "Get everyone out." I glared at Shianni, pulling the swords I had sheathed when we opened the gate. "Now."

     "This is our home, warden." the elf stood toe to toe with me, determination shining in her eyes. "We were unjustly trapped here, but we will defend what is ours tooth and nail. We've had too much help from shemlen of late." she shot a glare at Leliana, but it held no anger, only self-recrimination.

     My bard laid a hand on the elven woman's shoulder. "Shianni, let us do what we are sworn to do." she urged. "Think of your families. Think of Kallian, of Evary. We've pledged our lives to this battle, and you have not. There is no need to sacrifice what is precious to you."

     I remembered Leliana telling me the story of what had happened in the alienage, the young elven woman and her child, both of whom Alistair and Leliana had carried to safety. I remembered the sorrow in my bard's eyes and the rage in Alistair's as they spoke of the exploitation of the elves.

     "Leliana is right." I said. "You have children and the aged here." the splintering of wood sent a chill down my spine as the ogre's fist beat against the makeshift gate. "I will give them a home to come back to; I swear it on my own blood and my family's souls."

     The elf smirked. "I suppose those madcap stories about you must have a grain of truth to them." she muttered. "No shem I know would risk their lives for the elves."

     "She did." I glance to Leliana, softening the resolve in my eyes, letting it turn to love.

     "Yes," Shianni turned her gaze to me and lowered her voice, "but she is you, and you are she. That is plain to any eye."

     Without further ado, the elf turned to her people. "Gather the children and the elders and evacuate!" she shouted orders in a stronger voice than most battlefield generals possessed. "The gates are open! We _must_ get out of the city!"

     The elves scrambled to obey her orders, abandoning the gate as the ogre beat against it. One more solid blow, and it would break.

     "Leliana, bow at the ready." I gave orders of my own. "Wynne, lay a barrier after the elves' retreat. The darkspawn end here, or we do. Sten, right flank, Burrow, left."

     The ogre beat on the barrier again and wood splintered as the darkspawn poured through. Leliana fired arrows at an inhuman speed, crowding the choke point with darkspawn bodies. Magic shimmered behind me as Wyne protected the elves' escape. The ogre lumbered over the barrier and roared. I charged it, feeling its power, its strength.

     _This is one of them,_ I knew, _one of the darkspawn generals of which Riordan spoke._

     Sten let out a qunari battle cry ad Burrow howled as they protected the flank, letting me focus my concentration on the ogre. Unlike the others, this one wore armor, protecting its already thick hie. He lifted a chunk of fallen stone from the ground and flung it towards me, screaming in imagined triumph.

     I could not avoid the ersatz missile, but I turned and jumped back, letting the stone crash into my back. Pain sheared across my skin; I felt the breath punched out of my lungs. I lay there, gasping, struggling to rise, listening to the footfalls of the ogre come closer. I gripped my blades in my hand, struggling to breathe.

     "Salem!" Leliana shrieked, and I heard the tinny sound of arrows pinging off armor.

     _No!_ My resolve deepened and I clawed my way to my feet, facing the ogre. _I will not let her attract his attention!_

     I charged the ogre once more, diving between its legs and slashing out at the back of its knees, catching one with the tip of my blade. Black, viscous blood ripped from the slight cut and the ogre screamed, but did not collapse. He lifted his uninjured leg and pounded the ground, sending tremors through my body, causing my teeth to rattle.

     I scrabbled to my feet once more, standing behind the ogre now, catching a glimpse of the leather straps that bound the armor to its body. I struck for that, satisfied as the straps shredded and the dark metal clattered to the stone. The ogre swiveled and his massive arm swiped out at my chest.

     My feet left the ground and I screamed as the ogre's strike force me through the flimsy wooden walls of an alienage dwelling. Splinters gouge into the unprotected parts of my body and blood sluice own my face from a gash in my forehead, burning as it spilled into my eye.

     I forced myself to stand yet again angry as the ogre ripped apart the walls yet further, seeking me out.

     _My death would have the same effect as his. Confusion and dissension in the ranks. Chaos and destruction, and a surer chance of victory._

     I walked to the ogre this time, unsteady on my feet, but watching for his attacks. He turned his head this way and that, seeking me with his poor eyesight. I made as little noise as possible, letting the din of the battle outside drown me out. I raised my blade, wincing as the muscles in my back protested, and gathered my energy.

     I jumped out for the ogre's chest, plunging my blade into its now unprotected heart. The beast screamed in surprise and pain, rearing away from the building. I kept my hand fixed to my sword, twisting the blade, pulverizing its heart as it thrashed and writhed.

     At last, it fell and the ground shuddered beneath it. I lay across the beast's body, still clutching my sword, muscles trembling with shock, the pain in my skull becoming more prominent by the second. I felt magic near me once more; glanced up to see Wynne laying a barrier across the ruined makeshift gate, keeping the darkspawn at bay.

     Strange, animalistic cries went up from the darkspawn as their cohesion sundered. I lifted my head, glancing to make sure the others were all right. Wynne's knuckles were bloodied, Sten had several light gashes on his neck and cheeks. Leliana's armor had a tear in the leather on her right side, but I could see no blood.

     _They're safe. They're all right. Thank the Maker._

     I blinked.


	16. Fear Burning Bright

**Leliana**

    The ogre that had broken the elves' defenses fell to the ground with a crash, Salem on top of it, clinging to the sword she had pierced through its body as though it were her very life. Wynne drew a sheet of magic against the ruin of wood and stone, keeping the darkspawn at bay.

     Salem lifted her head, her face half-covered in blood. Her eyes darted about for a moment, almost wild, then the tiniest hint of a smile quirked her lips and her eyes rolled backwards, her lids fell closed, and her body went slack across the ogre's.

     Fear gripped my heart with more ferocity than when I had seen the massive, armored ogre throw my warden through the walls of the building.

     "Leliana, I must hold the spell." Wynne's voice held something near to panic. "Go to her, _now_."

     Needing no more encouragement, I rushed to Salem, avoiding the ogre's hand as it twitched in the throes of death. My right side burned as I pulled Salem's body off of the ogre and I winced, feeling fresh blood stain my shirt and slide down my waist.

     _Clever little genlock,_ a litany of Orlesian curses ran through my mind. _I should not have let my guard down...no matter what happened to Salem...I am useless to her if I'm injured._

     "Salem." I rested her back against the ogre's massive body, frowning as I saw the deep cut in her forehead, stretching back into her hair. "Salem, wake up."

     Her brows furrowed, but she did not stir. Her face, the side not drenched with blood, had drained completely of color.

     _This is no time for gentleness,_ I thought, hating myself for the realization and acceptance. _I cannot afford to waste time we do not possess. Even now, the archdemon is on the move. Even now, more darkspawn converge on the troops outside the city. Salem herself would never forgive me if I endangered this mission in any way._

     " _Salem._ " I tapped her cheek, wincing as leather struck flesh.

     Her eyes flashed open and she lurched forward, cradling her head in her hands. "What...happened?" she mumbled, disoriented. "I only closed my eyes a moment..."

     "Are you all right?" I asked, trying to ease the beating of my frantic heart.

     _I hate the sight of blood on her skin,_ I thought as I pulled a handkerchief from my sleeve and soaked it in water, washing away the blood from the wound. _I hate seeing her body beaten and battered; hate giving her over to battle and blades. I have seen her true heart. She was not meant for a life spent wielding the sword. Though the talent she has for it is uncanny...it is she who deserves the death that Celine spoke to me of. Quiet, at peace, surrounded by those who love her. Not as it will be. Not at the hand of a beast who forced swords into her grip and planted scars on her body with surrogate hands._

Salem quirked her lips in an acerbic half-smile. "I suppose I have to be." she muttered, beginning to get to her feet. 

     I extended my hand to help her, frowning as she wavered and nearly fell off balance. I winced as more of her weight settled against me and my injured side twinged.

     I hissed, then cursed myself as Salem's eyes fired to mine. She withdrew from my support and surveyed me, critically assessing the visible tear in my armor.

     "You're injured." she spoke, a dark energy overwhelming her voice. "How badly?"

     "Merely a flesh wound." I tried to assuage her, but the fire burning in her gaze did not lose its heat. "An enemy's lucky strike is all. In truth, Salem. A trifling inconvenience, nothing more."

     "Wynne!" Salem roared, seeming surer on her feet, and filled with a fury that sent a chill pounding through my bones. "Drop that barrier and let them come!"

     The senior enchanter gave no reply, and the barrier did not fall. The healer, the mother, in her would not cease protecting Salem until she was certain that the woman was capable of fighting once more.

     Salem's face set into a mask of death; her hands gripped her swords with grim resolve. The blood on her face went unnoticed; the bruises on her body were forgotten.

_Because a blade marked my skin. Because my blood has been shed in this venture. That is the reason she stands with such surety after nearly being battered to death by a giant. You have unlocked within me a strength I did not know I possessed, my love, for there are many who would burn to ash from simply being loved by you._

     "There is another, like that one," Salem said, gesturing to the ogre. "One more, then to Fort Drakon, then to the Archdemon. So close." she seemed to be speaking only to herself. "So close and then this will be done."

 _And you with it_ , my own darkness intoned.  _Do you rush to greet death so eagerly, my love? Not so long ago you spoke of this moment with hesitation, trepidation, unbridled grief. Why now do you seem to wish to rush headlong into your own eternity? I can only pray that Riordan will greet the demon first and bring it down. Is it evil of me to wish that another die so that you might live? You died for my life, Salem. You are worthy of equal or greater sacrifice, and if I could take your fate in my hands and carry it out myself, I most certainly would._

     "Warden, above you!" Sten called out and Salem turned her face to the sky, watching as the Archdemon swooped in lazy circles over the city. Jets of blue flame darted from between its teeth, igniting the streets, melting mortar and stone until the buildings began to crumble.

     The demon had something clutched in its claws, something bright. It glinted in the dim light provided by the smoke-covered sun. As the dragon flew above us, it trumpeted in triumph, releasing whatever it had caught between its talons.

     Salem stretched out her arm, placing it against my chest, pushing me backwards as the glimmering missile fell.

     It crashed to the ground with a sickening, wet thud. Pain speared through me as every hope I had clung to splintered into glass and shredded through my soul. The dream was ended. The chance was gone. My future now rang, hollow in my chest, with a starker clarity than I had ever wished to know existed.

     Riordan's dark eyes gazed, unseeing, into the sky; his body jutted at odd angles and broken bones protruded from sundered armor.

 _Oh, Salem_ , I watched as my warden walked to the body of the man she had never held in high esteem.  _I know you cared little for him, but no…I know you have no grief to waste. This is my sorrow…my great loss. It will be as you have foreseen it, my love. That Riordan would fail, and you would be forced to strike the blow that saves us all._

     Salem hovered over Riordan's body, whispering something. Words from one Grey Warden to another, so that the souls of the fallen might rest in peace, knowing their work would not be left unfinished.

     My warden rose from Riordan's body, her bright blue eyes dark with the promise of death and, for the first time, anticipation of the same. There would be no triumphant embrace. There would be no passionate kiss after the world's ending.

     "Wynne," Salem spoke, "bring down the barrier."

_There will only be me…and my memories._


	17. Letting Her Save My Soul

**Salem**

     I looked from the wreck of Riordan's body to Leliana. I felt as though the ogre general had risen from the grave gripped my heart in its hand, and crushed it until there was nothing left. No beat. No blood. No feeling. Leliana's eyes were fixed to the spreading pool of blood around Riordan's body, the spikes of broken bones jutting from his flesh. 

     I had never seen my life-loving, ever-optimistic bard look so...desolate. I seemed as if despair had stamped itself on her face with an iron brand.

     _You had hoped..._ tears I could not afford began to swim in my eyes. _You had hoped that he would live to face the archdemon, to take the blow in my place. But the times are against us. The road I have followed has set me here,_ _and none other could take the responsibility that the Maker has place in my hand. I am sorry, dear heart, I have no comfort for you._

     "Mage" I growled becoming the woman I had to be--cold, unfeeling, ruthless, set towards victory alone, "bring own that barrier, or so help me..."

     "Done." Wynne's staff scraped across the ground ad her magic winked out of existence with a flash.

     "Salem..." Leliana called after me as I strode towards the darkspawn.

     For the first time, I ignored her. I ignored them all. The sooner this was finished, the sooner I would know. It seemed only Burrow and the qunari understood, for both came to my side, shadowing me faithful, intent on success or death in the attempt.

     I forced the aching in my skull from my mind; I disregarded the hazy light at the edges of my vision. I could not give into the demands of my battered body. My enemy did not know pain. My enemy did not know fear, or death, or loss, or love. In order to win this, for the moment, I would have to take on the attributes of the beast I was striving to destroy.

     _I have always promised that there will be time. I have never broken my word. I swear, even if my last words are an apology for the cold heart I must now portray, I will speak them._

     I lifted my swords, ignoring the shrieks of my bruised muscles, the weight of the armor that threatened to drown me even as it preserved my life.

     "You've gone cold warden." Sten mused as we surveyed the enemies set before us. "The Qun teaches that a warrior's blood must heat with battle, that he will never know victory without the fire of assurance in his heart. Tell me, this distance I sense in you, this frigidity of soul, is it because you have realized you are unsuited to this task? That the enemy you face is far greater than you imagined?"

     I could sense the remaining general, a slavering mass of madness and bloodthirst. He would fall next by my hand.

     "It is because I am human." I muttered. "Because fires die for us, in us...and then we have nothing left."

     "What you have is behind you, Salem." Sten said. "What must be done is ahead. Thus far you have not forsaken one for the other. Why now does this change?"

     "You see before you the death of hope...a concept outside of the certainty of your Qun. What is behind me must remain there. What lies ahead is all that remains."

     The mass of darkspawn parted before us as a hurlock alpha emerged from the depths of Denerim's alleys. The spiked edges of its armor cut through the air threatening. Its ghoulish face wore the garish version of what might pass for a smile. In an eerie show of cogency the general lifted his arm and pointed his hand at me, calling me out for the death of his comrade, challenging me to a death-duel. Warden against darkspawn; tainted blood burning against tainted blood.

     I took a step forward, ready to meet this new challenge. The other darkspawn seemed to vanish into the shadows, seeking new opponents, letting their leaders seek my death.

     "Then tell me this," Sten stalled me with his unending questions, "the woman who loves you. The songstress. She trusts in you implicitly; places all that you deem as hope, in you. If you are hope personified, then hope cannot be dead, or dying, for you yet breathe."

     I continued towards the hurlock general sparing one moment to glance back at Sten. "Our world does not work in such a manner." I told him, almost regretting the truth of my words. "Would that it did."

     _Would that it did._

     The darkspawn general before me bared his razor-edged, rotting teeth and let loose an unholy shriek that did nothing to compare to the archdemon, yet it still sent a chill through my bones. I raised my blades as the general began to charge watching his wicked, spiked sword rise in a blow that could shear armor and tear skin.

     A fierce wind rustled through my hair and I froze, staring in shock as the charging general stopped short, confusion in the midnight pits of its eyes. Tainted blood slipped from its neck into its armor, a black, viscous sludge. I stared at the arrow pinned in its throat, watching in disbelief as another and another buried themselves in its skull.

     I turned around, listening as chaos erupted from the darkspawn as many of them dropped their weapons and fled the city, their unity sundered as the carriers of the archemon's consciousness fell into the abyss.

     Leliana stood there, stoic, bow drawn and at the ready. Her eyes gleamed like the heart of a star, and I felt myself once more on the edge of the only precipice I had willingly fallen over.

     _Be who you must be, in this moment,_ I remembered her words from Redcliffe reached my ears again, _and I swear, I will follow you._

     _So beautiful...so beautiful and fierce. How can I be your hope, when I am consistently overshadowed in the light that you are?_

     Burrow howled in the distance and I turned toward where the mabari pointed his nose. The drawbridge to Fort Drakon lay before us, but the archdemon was in flight, swooping down upon the now cleared courtyard, seeking the minds that it no longer had contact with. 

     "To the fort!" I ordered, pushing my voice to its limits, making certain that my companions were in front of me as we raced to reach Fort Drakon before the archdemon became over-aware of my presence. 

      _I cannot afford Riordan's fate._

     A wash of blistering heat flared behind me as the archdemon spat flames at the drawbridge. The thick, wooden planks vaporized beneath my feet and I felt myself begin to fall. Sten grasped my wrist in a bone bruising grip and hauled me onto the safety of the stone.

     Wynne entered the portcullis that would lead us into Fort Drakon, the qunari following her, silent even though he had saved my life. Leliana turned to join them...turned away from me, keeping her promise. To follow me, no matter what I became.

     _But this...this frigid, emotionless, silent woman...she is not the one who gathered an army, who defeated blindness and death...who fell in love. My victories because of **my** hope, **my** heart.  _

     "Leliana," I reached for her arm and turned her to me, "I _love_ you."

     I disregarded my enemies, ignored the flames of hell engulfing our exit and kissed the woman I loved.


	18. The Gentle Way She Breaks a Heart

**Leliana**

     Salem's lips were fire against my mouth, hotter than the conflagration that burned behind us, more furious than an ancient god in all its wrath. I stood, clenched between her hands and swords, confused, bewildered, and devastated by the sheer need she could evoke from me. 

     _I watched a wall of ice overtake your soul, my love,_ I thought as my heart sparked and blazed inside my chest. _I saw you accept your death after Riordan's failure. You turned away from my voice; you rushed to greet a stronger opponent than you without even a glance my way. Why now this change? Why now do your lips possess me as though I am the very air you breathe?_

     The kiss broke and Salem drew away, meeting my eyes with tears swimming in her own. Emotion printed itself on her face, such sorrow and love that I felt my bewilderment melt away. I would accept this--her--all of her, even her ridiculous moments of ill-timed affection. That she simultaneously denied and indulged her heart; that she could command and yet love kindled a flame in my being that I had never known before. Never had I known a spirit made of steel and silk. Never had I felt a touch that could sunder my very soul with its intensity and gentleness.

     "Salem..."

     "Forgive me." she apologized, once more, without need. "I lost myself for a moment."

     I could not resist a smile. "Before or after the kiss?"

     "Before." her scarred right hand reached out and stroked my cheek, a caress in the midst of battle. "Thank you...for being the light the light that leads me ever out of darkness."

     _But I cannot lead you through the end,_ I grieved. _Even should we perish together, we will not walk into eternity side by side. There is too much blood on my hands, my love. Innocent blood. You have killed, but only in the defense of the helpless. You have destroyed, but only to bring about new life. Such things will balance in the Maker's judgment. But me...I will be torn from your side, even in death, for I do not deserve the paradise that awaits you._

     "There is no darkness in you." I spoke, fully believing the words.

     Salem averted her eyes, a shadow crossing her features. I did not know the meaning of it, only trembled from a slight chill. She did not believe me, that much she made clear. But I had spoken the only truth I knew. That I had never seen this woman strike out in undeserved anger; that she had never granted herself a selfish wish that did not benefit at least one other.

     In the distance, a horn sounded, low and sonorous. Salem's eyes lifted and lit with an inexplicable hope.

     "That will be Eamon and the detachment from Redcliffe." a lopsided smile crossed her face and she pulled away from me, dashing through the portcullis that led to Fort Drakon. "We've no time to waste!"

     I followed after her, once more feeling confusion swarm over me. I had expected reservation from her, hesitation, more words whispered between us. Yet now she rushed towards her impending doom, trusting in me to follow behind her, as I had promised.

     _I do not understand you my warden. I believe I could spend a century in your presence and never fully comprehend the depth of your heart and the thoughts what whisper through your mind. But I do not have that chance. I will not see that smile cross your lips with the morning. I will...I will **miss** you, Salem. And I shall not love again...I know how I can make that promise. _

     Burrow's war howl shattered through the air as we entered the courtyard, standing on the cobblestone path that led to Fort Drakon. Darkspawn archers hid in and amongst the topiaries, firing missiles at the mage, the qunari, and Salem. I remained hidden in the shadows of the portcullis, pulling the last arrow from my quiver and nocking it against my bowstring.

     I fired at my closest enemy, content as I watched it drop to the ground, clawing at the arrow in its chest. I dashed towards it, pulling a dagger, cutting down its compatriots who turned to me with crossbows. The injury in my side burned as I brought my dagger into one's unsuspecting skull, turning to free the blade and keeping the tainted, fountaining blood from coming into contact with my own.

     My left arm shrieked as the familiar edge of a darkspawn arrow sliced through it. I ignored the pain and threw my dagger, catching the genlock in the thigh. It wavered on its feet, giving me enough time to lift the darkspawn's crossbow from the ground and fire the bolt into my living enemy's heart. The genlock slumped to the ground with a croak and I lifted the quiver from the first enemy I had felled, slinging it across my back, pulling an ebon-shafted, raven fletched arrow from it.

     I set the arrow against my bowstring and fired into the enemies harrying Sten. The qunari glared at me, affronted, but I did not have time for his pride. Though it caused me shame to admit it, his life was not the one that mattered to me. He would live, and I would like as not despise him for it.

     I smiled as I remained hidden in the bushes, assassinating those who considered their mission the same. My arms were burning, shoulders tense to the point of agony, but I fought on. We were not done yet. We had not ended the archdemon. And even though I knew that a strike from my hand would not kill it, I would do my utmost to rid that evil from this world.

     _I swore to serve the Maker and he sent me a vision. I id not know, then, how much I would loathe the fulfilling of His prophecy. I had kept myself so locked away, so closeted, so protected that I never thought I could feel loss again. I had thought all grief behind me. Now,_ I watched Salem, radiant in her soot-colored armor as she struck down the demons of the abyss, _I shall mourn for the rest of my days. Whether I am force to walk this world without her, or separated from her at the Maker's side, my pain will be that of legends._

     _And it **will** be worth it._

     "Leliana!" Salem called, turning her head, searching for me s she dodge the sword strikes and arrows that still hurtled through the air.

     "Behind you!" I called, following as we raced for the gates of the fort.

     Sten pressed his massive hands against the doors, grunting as he shoved them apart just enough to let us through. We all pushed the doors closed and barred them before leaning against them and taking a moment to breathe, basking in our temporary safety. 

     Wynne's robe had a crimson-stained tear at the shoulder, but it was slight, and most likely a wound made by a glancing arrow, rather than a sword blade. A crossbow bolt jutted out from Sten's muscled thigh, but his face held no sign of pain, and he moved as a man uninjured. 

     Salem assessed the damage done to both of them an turned her eyes to me, frowning as she saw the fresh gash across my arm. 

     "Are you prepared?" she asked all of us. "I will bring no one with me who is unwilling to give their lives. If this is as far as you wish to go, I will not keep you here and...and I thank you...my  _dear_ friends, for all that you have sacrifice already."

     "Gratitude is unbecoming in a leader." Sten scoffed, turning towards the stairway that would lead us to the next level of the fort...then to the roof...and the final trial. "Perhaps the top of this tower and the end of this war will answer my Arishok's question. I am with you, warden."

     "Wynne?" Salem looked to the senior enchanter, giving her the opportunity to return to her Circle, to the young mages who could benefit from her wisdom and guidance.

     "Trying to rid yourself of me, Salem?" the healer teased. "I will not be disposed of so easily. You would have given your life for the Circle, ad I owe you a debt of equal value for that."

     "None of you owe me anything." my warden spoke, her eyes anywhere but on ours. "If you feel you must repay what little kindness I have been able to spare, give it to another who has known little compassion. That is all I ask." at last, her eyes lifted, as I had known they would, to me.

     "Leli?" she rasped.

     "Never again, my love." I placed my left hand over my heart, letting her see that I still wore the signet ring of House Cousland, a promise that would never be fulfilled...a bride that would never be. "I swore I would never leave you again."

     "I will not hold you to it." Salem whispered, ever noble, ever beautiful, ever mine.

     "Seal your lips, wench." I surprised her by stepping forward and ghosting her lips with a kiss. "Let us go and slay a dragon."


	19. Stairway to Hell

**Salem**

     We crept up the narrow stairways, the sole light that guided us emanating from Wynne's staff. My heart beat ever faster as we climbed upward, towards the roof that the archdemon had made its stronghold. I gripped my swords in shaking hands, trying to control the urge to run towards my enemy and my future. 

     Eamon had arrived and that meant... _No. I must not hope too far. I must not ream too far. There is no guarantee..._

     I heard the darkspawn scuttling in the body of the fort, tearing apart furniture and barricading doors, making this place into an even more haphazard fortress, so that all who besieged it would be certain to meet their end.

     _But not us. Not today. There is such a short distance yet to go. A short distance that spans into eternity._

     I glanced back at those who followed me. All of them bore wounds from this final battle. I whispered a prayer in my thoughts, asking that they know no more damage than already suffered, that the archdemon would seek my blood alone—spill my blood alone. They were no threat to it...I existed as the sole one who could injure it, kill it, wrap its soul in my own and drag it into the abyss.

     _They deserve a life free from new scars. Wynne must return to the Circle. There is much for her yet to do, even though she may live on borrowed time. Sten has a mission to fulfill, redemption to seek, even after my quest has ended. Burrow deserves a life at a kind master's side, ever on the hunt, a life of blissful peace. And Leliana...you deserve all the beauty I could never give you. A life filled with music, song, dance...all the things that I am not._

     My lover's eyes met mine and softened as she read the expression on my face. She shook her head, as though she had read my thoughts and found them ridiculous. And her smile...radiant as the sun, content in the sky, singing that there was nowhere it would rather be.

     _Maker, you have blessed me, if only for a stolen season. If I am to meet you today, I will thank you for this...but I ask, selfishly, that if I am called to your side, let me watch over her. So that she might know peace. So that she will not chain herself to my memory and prevent herself from ever knowing joy again. Her life began in shadows, a nameless song, a faceless tale. She deserves so much more than merely that._

     The stairs opened out onto the second level of the tower. I could sense the darkspawn, more than we could easily defeat in such small quarters. Two hurlocks guarded the entryway into the next staircase. They would have to be eliminated...without drawing attention to us.

     I leaned against the wall, examining the the surroundings that would either help or hinder us. In this stairway, there would not be enough room for Leliana to draw her bow, and the darkspawn guards at the staircase were heavily armored...a thrown dagger would be out of the question. Wynne's magic was not silent, and darkspawn had keen noses. The air was thick with blood already, but they would scent magic in the air the moment she cast it.

     _No choice but to handle this myself._

     "Stay back." I ordered as I edged out of the corridor, lifting my hand to stay those who would follow.

     Sten's hand went to Burrow's collar and the mabari whined as he saw me go into danger without him. I walked to the darkspawn, wishing I had paid more attention to my mother's constant lectures on how a lady must comport herself.

     _With dignity and grace, as though she floats on a wisp of wind. A silent entrance and unobtrusive exit is the mark of a true gentlewoman._

     I had failed those lessons, as I had failed in everything my mother had attempted to teach me. Needlework, singing, dancing...the culinary arts. I was my father's daughter, bred for battle, built of steel and earth and all in the world that was harsh and unyielding.

     Sacrificing speed for stealth, I edged along the wall, downwind of the darkspawn, who could sense that the taint in my blood was different from their own. I edged the tip of my sword in between the plates of the hurlock's armor, thrusting the blade through its body, feeling the blade catch and stop at the chestplate on the other side. I began to pull it out...stopped. 

     Ice fired through my body, heating to fire as I felt serrated metal grated into my skin, against the bone of my hip. My eyes went wide with pain... _there was a third in the shadows!_ I realized, too late.

     I grabbed the hand that held the knife, a genlock's hand, and spun the creature in front of me, into the other, living, hurlock guard. Using my still-buried sword for leverage, I shoved my other blade forward, piercing the leather of the genlock's gorget, shoving the sword upwards and out if its body, into the hurlock's neck. Both fell, the noises obscured by the grunts and movements of the still-living darkspawn.

     I staggered into the next stairway, breathing heavy, feeling sweat begin to bead on my forehead. I leaned against the wall, struggling to catch my breath and fight the pain and I heard the footsteps of the others. Leliana's hands were anxious against my arms as she joined me, followed closely by the others. Burrow, whose nose could distinguish between my blood and the darkspawn's, whimpered.

     "Salem," Leliana hissed, and I winced as her hands brushed the hilt of the knife protruding from my body, "Salem, what happened?"

     "I'm all right." I guided her hands away from me, gripping them in my own. "I'm all right."

     Her eyes held disbelief, doubt, fear...fear that I could not afford her to feel. I reached behind me, gripped the hilt of the knife, and pulled it from my body, biting my lip so that I did not cry out. I glanced at the blade from the corner of my eye, sighing in relief. It was neither long or wide, just wickedly edged. I would bleed, but I could still fight.

     I slipped the knife into my belt, hiding it from the others, from Leliana. They did not need to see. I had to be strong, to force myself onward. We had no time to rest, no time to heal, no time to do anything but destroy the enemy before us.

     I slipped the knife into my belt, hiding it from the others, from Leliana. They did not need to see. I had to be strong, to force myself onward. We had no time to rest, no time to heal, no time to do anything but take out the enemy before us.

     "Genlock in the shadows." I explained, hasty. "It caught me off guard."

     "Are you hurt?" Leliana pressed, our time together having taught her that on this one issue I would be less than honest.

     "No." I lied. "Simply taken by surprise."

     Her eyes slanted, but in the dim light of Wynne's staff, she could see nothing that could prove otherwise.

     "Leli," I whispered, thinking that this might be the last time we spoke to each other. "I love you."

     She turned to me and there were tears in her eyes, tears that she would never let fall. "I love you too, my warden."

     "Then trust me." I quirked my lips in a half smile.

     She slipped her hand into mine and we continued ascending the stairs. The next door we opened would spill out onto the roof of Fort Drakon. The archdemon would be waiting. I could sense its song, its spirit. I could sense its thirst for warden blood.


	20. Her Gentle, Precious Hope

**Leliana**

     Something had happened in the stairway, something that Salem would not tell me. I watched her ascend the stairs, the normal fluidity of her movements gone. She clung to the railing, seeming to force one foot in front of the other. 

     _Maker's breath, surely she is not further injured!_ I thought. _Is it not enough that she must slay the archdemon, must she also be half-dead when she faces an enemy twice her strength? Could not **some** god grant her a death with her body intact? Andraste was given the mercy of the flames; charred to ash. Salem is this Age's savior. Why now does the Maker demand that she be ripped apart, piece by piece, demanding spilt blood at every moment? _

     My warden seemed to split the stream of time as she journeyed further towards her fate. I turned my eyes side to side, watching as the world seemingly accelerated, splitting from us and catapulting me into a world where the dreams I had possessed were long since spent and turned to dust. Dreams of love, vanquished. Dreams of peace, sundered. Dreams of joy...denied.

     I reached out, grasping Salem's hand, to anchor myself in the time moving slowly, the time when I could feel her skin, lose myself in her eyes, anchor my soul in her strength. All too soon, the stairway widened, ad the doors to the roof stood before us.

     Salem paused and I clenched my jaw, not wishing to hear another speech from her. Not wishing to hear how she would let us go our separate ways if we so desired. I did not want those questions, that option, that choice. I wanted to die with her...a fitting end to a tragic love.

     _But I know it is not doubt that drives you to say these things, my warden. I know it is love, and yet my heart rips open every time you speak of such matters. In every heart there beats a darkness. I have touche the center of my own, the days ad nights I wished Marjolaine dead, even when I lived only for her affection. You stole that darkness from me, Salem; you folded it into your light and made me forget. Forget the vision, forget the pain, forget the memories that haunt. Please, my love, do not stand before us and question our devotion. We are yours. I do not believe we ever had a choice._

     Salem stopped, glancing at the door. She turned to the qunari and senior enchanter. "May I beg your indulgence for a moment alone?" she asked, sounding younger than I had ever heard her.

     Wynne and the qunari nodded, waiting beside the door, leaving Salem and me alone, as much as we could be.

     My warden looked at me, and there was light in her eyes, and there was hope, and neither had any place here, in this time.

     "I could stand here forever." she whispered, reaching out, tangling her fingers in my already tousled hair. "On the edge of eternity, just gazing at you. No need of food or drink, for love is all that sustains. In...In a better world..." her voice broken.

     I clenched my hand into a fist, feeling the weight of her ring...my rig. Her gift to me, her promise...an inanimate piece of silver that I would wear for the rest of my days.

     "In a better world, we would not be here." I bit the words as they left my lips, knowing that she would hurt from them...and forgive me for it.

     "None of that." Salem guided me closer to her, placing her forehead against my own. "Make me a promise, Leliana."

     _Anything,_ my thoughts were choked with tears, _anything you ask, I will give._

     "What...what would you ask of me?"

     Her smile ignited the room and my heart fluttered in my chest as it had the moment I first saw that expression cross her face. I felt made new, new in this feeling, new in this love, innocent once again, and beautiful and blessed.

     "Sing again." Salem breathed an encouragement and prayer. "Dance again. Write music, quote poetry, tell tales. Live the life for which you were meant, and do not weep for me."

     "No." I felt a hand around my throat as Salem stripped me bare and held my soul before me. It shivered in her hands, intangible, thin and paper-light, able to be rent apart with a breath. "No, Salem...you cannot ask this of me. Anything else, I will give. Anything but _that._ I...I cannot return to that life."

     _I never wish to heal from you, my darling, beautiful girl. To ask me to do these things is to ask me to leave you behind, to lock you in my memory...to let you, every part of you...die. **No.**_

     "I can ask it of you, and I am." Salem pressed her lips to my forehead...in Orlais, it was a kiss that signified protection, a deeper love than any other. "I love you, Leliana...the way your eyes shine, even when they glitter with frozen tears from grief long dead. I love your smile, even when it is reluctantly given. Your laughter is like sunrise, a blanket of peace spread across my soul. To extinguish such a light out of grief...grief for someone as undeserving as I...it is criminal, dear heart."

     Tears, tears I had never wanted to shed, spilled over my eyes and down my cheeks, chasing away the dirt, the grime, the blood. I had promised myself that I would not cry, that I would not damage her with my grief, until the inevitable happened. Salem did not lose...and she would give her life for this victory that could be nothing else.

     "Salem," I wrapped my arms around her in a frantic embrace, clinging to her as I had never been able to cling to any other. My rock, my security, my blessing. "If ever you once lacked for words, that time is ended. Speak no more of this. Please, Salem, _please..._ my heart is breaking."

     "Let it break then." her breath warmed my neck. "Let it break while I may yet gather the pieces."

     "This is not fair." I wept, unable to keep my shoulders from shaking as my body felt grief and fear vie to tear it apart. "This is not how the stories play out. These words...words of love and hope...are shared after the battle...after the war is won. This is not as it should be, Sale...it's _not **right!** "_

     "No, it isn't right." Salem pulled me tighter against her, enveloping me in her warmth, her solidarity, her strength that she gave to all the world. "But this is what we have been given. This moment. Each other. This is no legend; it is real and it is painful and it is everything that I have ever dreaded coming to fruition. But I am willing to forgive fate, if you promise me that you can do the same."

     _I am willing to die..._ I translated her words in my own mind... _if you promise me that you will continue on._

     Before the Landsmeet, she had told me that her life, and the manner in which she lived it, was simple.

     _You live, I live...that is the entirety of it._

     "As you say, my love." I whispered.

     _I promise. Though it may be years in coming, I will sing again. I will dance again. I live, you live. You live, I live. As long as one of us remains in this world, the other will never truly die. This is what she has realized. this is a tale unlike any other, my love._

     _Whether or not you perish, Salem...you have discovered immortality. You have discovered that it is love._

     Salem led me out of the stairwell and pressed her hand against the door, standing on the opposite side of her final fate. Sten looked at her as a warrior sees their commander, in his eyes a resignation, but also pride. Wynne...Wynne gazed at my warden like a mother looked upon her child, with love and so much sorrow. Salem's death would cause Wynne such pain; leave her like a mother bereaved.

     "Forward," Salem spoke to us all, drawing us from our future grief and into the battle ahead, "into dark eternity." she glanced back at me and her eyes were gleaming like the stars. "Never forsaking love."

     She pushed open the doors and walked to greet the enemy whose death would be hers as well. I lifted my hands to take up my bow...for the last time. Red caught my vision and I stared at my hand, trembling as I saw it for what it was. Blood...Salem's blood...the painful price we would be forced to pay for the safety of the world.


	21. Beckoning the End

**Salem**

     _This is it. The finale. The end. Only...when the curtain falls, there will be no applause. All of the actors who began this play will not return to the stage for their final accolades. This is the moment of truth, this is the moment of **my** story, and I shall write its ending with sword and blood in the stead of pen and ink. _

     I set my hands against the doors and breathed deeply, ignoring the pain from my bleeding body, the worried gaze of my mage-mother, the terrified hurt in my lover's eyes. Sten moved to the doors, intending to aid me in their opening. I shook my head and the qunari backed away. 

      _This is my fight. It always has been. From the beginning. When I first drank from the goblet of tainted blood, I knew. I have been blessed, I have been cursed, I have been loved. I have been given everything I need, and now it is time to pay back the world and the Maker for the gifts they have bestowed._

     I pushed the doors open, stepping onto the roof of Fort Drakon. The archdemon whirled and bared its fangs, sensing my presence, sensing that the great battle, ever fought between downfallen god and tainted man, was about to begin. I walked, slow, gripping my swords, evening my breathing, calming the pounding of my heart. The rooftop defenses had not yet been destroyed; ballistae were aimed into the streets of Denerim, a safeguard against Fort Drakon being once more besieged.

     "Leliana, get to a ballista." I gave the order. "They're our best chance of killing the archdemon. Wynne, cover her, and take Burrow. Sten, with me."

     They nodded, as they had ever done; never questioning an order.

     _How will the Maker reward them,_ I wondered. _Riches? Long life? Ignominy? Who can say? But I hope...I hope they are blessed._

     Leliana ran towards one of the outcroppings on the roof, up the stairs that led to the weapon's platform. Wynne followed after her, and the archdemon took no notice. They were not its focus. They could not end its life. I could, and thus its horrible, vacant eyes glared down at me.

     "Warden" Sten spoke, "they archdemon is calling its thralls. They flood from the towers."

     I looked to the towers, watching hurlocks, genlocks, and shrieks spill out from the entrances, coming to their vile master's summons.

     "Sten," my orders changed, "get to the others. Protect Wynne and Leliana!"

     "And who will protect you, warden?" the qunari asked.

     "Do not waste your time with me." I shook my head and faced the archdemon. "I died the moment I opened those doors. Your concern is for the living now."

     Sten grunted, saying nothing, but he turned and rushed to Wynne and Leliana before the darkspawn surrounded the. My mabari yipped and howled and fought, not understanding...not understanding that his master was dead, and that he could not remain by my side as he had since his eyes first opened.

     _Stay with Leliana, Burrow. She will care for you. Love her as you loved me. Protect her as you protected me. Please._

     Blue flames shot from the Archdemon's mouth, sweeping over me with a scorching heat that I could not feel. The dragon's blood scarring on my hand and back protected me, covering me in a halo of flames that no other fire could penetrate. Pain spiraled down my hip from the stab wound and my armor felt as though it weighed more than I could carry.

     The archdemon roared its frustration and stamped its taloned claw. The roof shook and the stones cracked beneath its feet. From the corner of my eye, I watched as Leliana and Sten fought to aim the ballista, while Wynne's barriers and lightning kept the gathering darkspawn at bay.

     I began running, determination fueling my tired, scarred body. Let the archdemon flute and trumpet its rage and fury. I would remain silent. I would fear nothing.

     The giant, glistening, blood-drenched fangs snapped at me and I dodged, hacking at the creature's neck. The blade was deflected by the hardened scales and I spun away as the archdemon curved its neck and attempted to break my body with its teeth once more.

     I fell as my boot caught in the cracked stone, watching as the jaws closed right where I had been. I winced and struggled to move, propping myself up on my elbows and propelling myself backwards with my feeth, through the archdemon's legs.

     The giant dragon above me shuddered and I heard a sickening, wet impact as a ballista arrow embedded itself in the demon's side. The beast's knees dropped and with a powerful sweep of its wings, it took flight. The wingbeat forced me down onto the roof, slammed my armor into my flesh, and split the stone yet further. I heard the roof crack and forced myself to move in spite of the bone deep bruising beginning to splash across my entire body. Pain shrieked through my hip as I dragged myself to my feet.

     The archdemon perched on another roof, howling in fury, unassailable by ground forces. I watched Leliana screaming at Sten, fighting to reposition the ballista. Wynne's barrier fell as the darkspawn hammered on it.

     On the opposite roof, the archdemon whipped around and grasped the missile between its teeth, wrenching the giant arrow from its side. Blood poured from its flank, melting the building beneath it. I watched in horror as the wound knitted an the scales grew again. The process was slow, but I could not doubt the evidence of my eyes.

     "Salem!" Leliana cried, firing arrows into the horde that surrounded them.

     They were blocked in...nowhere to go but to fall into the city streets, and the darkspawn outnumbered us. I raced for them, flinching as the archdemon screamed again, its song boring into my ears and beating behind my brain.

     I lifted my swords, slashing with wild abandon at the darkspawn that besieged and attacked my loved ones. The blades that Leliana had given me sliced through the darkspawn's crude, hastily constructed armor, into their rotting flesh, unmarked by their tainted blood. I ignored the aching muscles in my shoulder and back as my body struggled against my enemy and the armor that protected me. I lopped off a genlock's head as I fought my way up the stairs, towards Leliana.

     _You have to live._ The thought rang louder in my ears than the archemon's cries. _That is all that matters to me._

     Sten twisted the ballista as I ascended the stairs, corpses falling in my wake. Leliana stared at me, open-mouthed, looking at me as though I had become a different person.

     _Those who await death have nothing to fear, dear heart. I am unafraid. As long as you are living, I am unafraid._

     "Are you all right?" I flipped my blade in my hand, plunging it backwards into a hurlock's gut.

     "Well enough." she stared at me in awe.

     My gaze moved past her, to the archdemon, who had mended its wound and begun to flex its massive wings. A shadow fell across the sun, beginning to darken the sky. It was an eclipse...meant to drown the world in shadow. To destroy the hope I would _die_ to preserve.

     The sound of enemy bowstrings stretched taut met my ears. "Cover!" I shouted.

     Wynne shielded herself and Sten ducked behind the ballista, but Leliana stood too far from the mage, too far from protection. I ran to her and pulled her into my arms, against my body, dropping to my knees as I felt bolts pierce my armor. One slipped between the plates, burying itself in my shoulder, the metal tip cracking my bone and scraping against it.

     I gritted my teeth and held my lover until the barrage had passed.

     "Take them down, Leliana." I told her, rising to my feet as the archdemon thundered a battle cry and took to the air, landing gracefully on the roof of Fort Drakon once more, wreathed in blue fire.

     "I love you." she whispered, sliding to her feet and drawing her bow in a smooth, poetic motion that always made my heart race.

     Wynne's magic flared out, lightning slicing the throats of enemies as I descended the stairs and clawed my way to the archdemon.

     _It can heal itself with unnatural expedience. It might possess a dragon's weak points, but I have no way of knowing. I will have to take its head...to be certain._


	22. Breaking the Watch

**Salem**

    The wood of my bow creaked as I abused it, threatening to snap as I fired arrow after arrow into gather throngs of archers and darkspawn emissaries. My body operated away from the control of my mind. All conscious thought had left me when Salem took me in her arms, when her body had shuddered at the impacts from darkspawn bolts. 

     Then...when the archdemon shrieked and returned to Fort Drakon...Salem had pulled away from me, turned her back, and gone to face her foe. At that moment, all thought departed, gone with the sight of blood creeping down her armor; the bolt embedded in her back...she had been struck and not winced, not cried out in pain, and not wavered. As though she had become more than human. As though she were someone who could face down an ancient god...and not fall. 

      _And then there was the blood on my hand,_ I fired another arrow into the hurlock that Burrow had borne to the ground, smiling in grim triumph as the monstrosity ceased its struggles and freed the mabari to attack another opponent.  _It would be one thing to lose Salem in a grand gesture, a heroic moment, as in the tales. But to see her ripped apart, little by little, shard of skin after shard of skin...it is worse than torture._

     "Keep your head, songstress!" Sten barked and I tumbled inside my body once more. 

     I shook my head, tapping my cheek on the raven fletchings of my darkspawn arrow. The slight brush of feathers against my skin weakened my resolve, making me remember...

      _Her touch...callused fingers, hardened palms...Marjolaine's hands were dainty, soft, kept gentle by gloves that never let blood touch her skin. Salem has allowed everything to mark her...but her caress was never dishonest, and her hands could never lie. **Was...could...** already I think of her in the past tense...reciting my memories of her as a bard would. As though she were long dead. _

     "Leliana!" Wynne shrieked. 

     I gazed at the mage, whose outstretched fingers pointed towards SAlem, to the darkspawn horde that surrounded the archdemon, defending their master. I re-directed my body, forcing myself to watch my lover dodge the strikes of the enemies that outnumbered her and possessed twice her strength. I loosed my arrow and pulled another, watching as my missile struck true. 

     Salem kept fighting, ignoring the enemies that I felled near her, not sparing a moment, as though she were acting in a play... _as though she were already dead._

     The creaking of gears echoed in my hearing as Sten pulled back on the ballista and loaded another arrow against the taut cable. He turned the massive war machine as though it were a child's toy, aiming for the archdemon. We had already seen that it would be to no avail, that the creature could heal itself with unnatural power and speed. We were helpless against something of such majesty and might. 

      _How can Salem even dream of killing this thing?_ I wondered.  _I have witnessed her slay a dragon...twice...but this is beyond any of that. This is a god in dragon form._ My own hope faltered. 

     I reached back for another arrow, finding my supply exhausted. Frustrated, I flung the empty quiver from my back, set my bow in its place, and drew my daggers. 

     Sten fired the ballista and my heart leapt as I heard the archdemon wail in fury, watching as it lashed out with its massive, spiked tail. I flinched, remembering the damage such a thing to do...seeing Morrigan's body ripped open, her bones bared to the cold in fragmented pieces. 

       _Salem!_

     Frantic, I searched for her, the gleam of her armor, the proud set of her shoulders. I could not find her, the mass of darkspawn was so thick, the archdemon battering its wings in rage and pain. I dashed down the steps, running for Salem. Burrow joined me, charging enemies as they approached. 

     I lashed out with my daggers, cutting into rotting flesh, spilling tainted blood, stopping the beat of darkened hearts. The distance seemed to great to cut across, too far...farther away from me than death's yawning chasm could take her. It was not time yet. I was not ready to lose sight of her, not ready to accept that her smile would never again light my morning. I did not want that life, not yet. 

     I dodged the falling gouts of flame, taking advantage of the occupied archdemon and the bewildered darkspawn, who could not seem to comprehend the actions their master had taken, eradicating allies in an attempt to reach enemies. 

     "Salem!" I did not care if it heard my cry; I did not care if those massive teeth broke through my armor and into my skin. 

      _At least we can be together, one last time, in death, before even eternity calls for us to part ways._

     "Salem!" I called again, begging for an answer, a whisper, a groan...anything. 

      _Anything at all._

     A hurlock confronted me, bringing his sword down in an overhead strike. I sidestepped and chills ran down my spine as its blade grated against the stone. It took two quick strikes to bring it to the ground and I stepped over its corpse, keeping a careful eye on the archdemon, whose teeth grasped at the second giant arrow we had impaled it with. 

     "Leli, no!" strong arms grasped me and pulled me away as the archdemon's head swung back around, the arrow too deeply embedded for it to remove. 

     Salem bore me to the ground, covering my body with her own once more as her hands pressed over my ears. The archdemon roared directly above us and the sound shuddered through my body, pain firing into my skull as the noise pierced even my covered ears. 

     The weight of plate armor rolled away from me and Salem lay on the stone, gasping as Burrow darted forth and back in front of the archdemon, barking as though he were rabid, drawing the demon's attention away from us. 

     "Salem," I rolled to my knees, looking into my lover's hazy eyes. 

     Blood streamed from her left ear, matting her dark hair to her face. 

      _That roar...so loud, so powerful...she covered my ears, just as she protected my body from the arrows. My presence here is only causing you more pain, more injury, weakening you against the enemy we face. I should have remained with Alistair at the gates of the city. I should have known better than to think that I could be of help here._

     "I'm all right." she lied, as she always had, as she always would, until her dying breath. She smiled and it looked strained. "Better now."


	23. Facing Fate

**Salem**

    I dragged myself to my feet, reeling. My vision blurred and my skull felt as though someone had plunged a red hot poker through my temples; it burned behind my eyes. Burrow's furious barking echoed in my ears, dim, far away. I touched my fingers to my ear and withdrew my hand. Blood streamed down my skin and I stumbled off balance. 

     Leliana's hand clutched my elbow and she steadied me, gazing at me, eyes filled with worry. We could not spare time for such indulgent emotions. I rested my hand on her shoulder and squeezed before I knelt to pick up my fallen sword. 

      _I cannot feel my left arm,_ I tallied my injuries.  _The archdemon's roar has left me partially deafened. The stab wound in my back bleeds still. The only hope I have is that the archdemon is not able to wrest the ballista arrow from its body. It might weaken it enough so...so that I can kill it._

     "Leliana, get back to the others." I told her, for the first time not desiring her by my side.

      _She cannot be here. I will not let her die, and this place is too dangerous. I cannot lose you, Leliana. I **will not** lose you. Not when...never mind._ 

     "Salem, you..." she spoke, so low I was forced to read her lips. 

     "Go!" I shouted as it became clear that Burrow's distraction efforts were no longer working. 

     The archdemon snapped at me and my bard rolled away from its teeth, casting one sorrowful look my way as she returned to the safety of the others. She fired arrows into the gathering throng around the ballista, caring for us all, as she had done since Lothering. 

      _You, my beautiful Leliana...you cared for our souls, finding our strengths and bringing them to light. You made me smile again...after I had lost everything, you gave me hope that there could be more to life than loss. You have given me so much joy; I am sorry that I can bring you nothing but sorrow._

     I ducked behind the archdemon's foreleg as its teeth came for me again. I swept my sword across the bend of its knee, standing aside as its thick, corrosive blood spurted from the wound, leaving my swords untouched, as Leliana had promised. 

     The archdemon's talons ripped backwards, the curved tips of its claws catching my chestplate, shredding through the metal as though it did not exist. The force of the blow flung me against the beast's back leg. I ripped at the straps of my armor as the sheared edges of the plate cut small furrows into my skin. The dragon shifted as my chestplate fell away and I taggered to my feet, relieved at the lack of heavy armor weighing me down. 

      _Let death come. Let destiny come. But, Maker above, let me defeat my enemy!_ _  
_

     The dragon rose on its hind legs and reared into the air, spitting fire. As it crashed down I raised my blades and speared them into its unprotected underbelly. Acidic, corrosive blood poured from the wounds, slipping down the magic of my swords, sluicing over my hands and down my arms. Blood rained down across my shoulders, slicing down my back and across my chest and stomach. The archdemon and I screamed as one, lives enduring unimaginable wounds and agony. Its blood burned into my skin, the darkness of its tainted soul searing into my veins.

     I tasted ash in my mouth and screamed in rage and agony as my flesh burned and smoked. But I gritted my teeth and pressed the attack, driving my swords forward, feeling more acidic blood dripping onto my back, burning through my shirt and tearing apart my skin. I heard a dull thunk and the archdemon staggered, pierced by another ballista arrow. 

     The demon screamed, intensifying the pounding in my head, causing my entire body to tremble with pain. I wrenched my blades to the side, wincing as they grated on the dragon's scales, burning as its blood spattered across my thighs, melting through my armor. 

     I stumbled out from beneath the archdemon, watching its massive head swerve, its teeth trying to wrest the bolt from its skin. Its body trembled as its blood dripped onto the stone, as the creature who thought itself a god entered the realm of humanity. A world of nothing but pain. A world that it could never hope to comprehend. 

      _And if you cannot comprehend such a thing, then you cannot rule it. You have no place here. If I must die to see your would-be reign brought to an end, then **So. Be. It.**_

The giant teeth enclosed on the shaft of the ballista arrow and I struck upwards, into the archdemon's neck, piercing the fire gland...one of the few known weak points of a dragon. Scorching, acid blood rained down and I withdrew my blades as the archdemon whipped its head around, knocking me off my feet and onto the stone. 

     The archdemon thrashed wildly, crushing its darkspawn allies. The stone of Fort Drakon shifted beneath me as I got to my feet. Burrow howled and I looked up, watching as more darkspawn flooded the roof of the building. The mabari barked again, in warning and, too late, I looked to my enemy, feeling nothing as its tail connected with my chest...

     I heard something crack as my feet left the earth and my back connected with the stone. I screamed aloud and reached out, feeling my hand dangling over the open air...I had come to rest at the edge of the Fort's roof. The streets of Denerim lay below me, soaked with the blood of darkspawn and mortals. 

     I lay there, too stunned to move, feeling the archdemon's blood eat away at my skin. My shoulder ached and my chest felt heavier than it had in Howe's dungeon. I looked to my left and saw the head of a crossbow bolt sticking out of my skin...the force of my impact with the stone had pushed it through. Black stars danced in front of my eyes as the sun winked out of existence. I knew I was weak; knew I was dying. My mouth filled with blood and I spat the hot, coppery liquid out, feeling it coat my chin. 

     I forced my eyes to remain open; forced myself to move into something that resembled a sitting position. Every part of my body ached, burned, and I wanted to curl into myself and scream until my voice left me. The rooftop spun and in my ears I heard a dim cry...someone screaming my name. I watched my enemies run towards me as the top of Fort Drakon bloomed into black-edged blue fire. 

     I reached for my swords, but I had lost my grip on them when the archdemon struck me. My hands were scorched by the archdemon's blood; I could see the deep, erratic lines of the burns and feel the pain of its wretched blood mingling with my own. I prayed for mercy and dragged myself to my feet, feeling weaker than I ever had before. 

      _I am so badly injured...I do not even know if the archdemon is truly wounded. Maker, please...please let this be ended soon. I have endured so much for you, so much for this land. I can endure no more._

     A hurlock rushed up to me, a broken sword in its hand. It swiped out at me and I tried to dodge, but the weight in my chest crushed me, the rooftop swerved, and I could not move fast enough. The hurlock corrected his attack and the broken sword cut deep into my right thigh. My mental barriers gone, I screamed and clutched at the wound as the hurlock dragged his blade through my flesh and lifted it again, preparing for another strike. A killing blow. I tried to rise, and could not. So I waited...waited for the sheared blade to slice into my neck. 

     Twin daggers protruded from the hurlock's chest and he fell with a gurgling cry. Leliana stood there, an unnatural halo of light surrounding her. She looked like Andraste, golden and radiant, fierce and pure, gazing at me in wonder, tears coursing down her cheeks. 

     "You...you're alive." she breathed, kneeling beside me, allowing me to see the collapsed form of the archdemon. 

     I could say nothing; breathing took what little strength I had left. Leliana's hand took mine and I did not have the energy to cry out from the pain. I stared at my fallen foe, daring myself to believe my eyes.  _  
_

      _Could it be? Could it be that this battle is at last over, and by some divine grace, I have survived?_

     Fear gripped my heart as I saw the archdemon move, lifting its head, showering more blood across the ground. 

     "It's...not...over." I whispered, accepting the truth. 

     I should have known. I should have realized that this could only end in one way. Leliana turned her face from me and towards the archdemon, her face going pale as she watched the creature struggle. 

     "No." one word...one word that held all fear, all loathing...a hatred and agony so deep that there was no world in which it could possibly exist and  _not_ destroy. "Salem...no."

     "I must." I forced myself to my feet and stumbled to a group of corpses, wresting a two-handed blade from the life it had ended. 

     I looked back at Leliana...one last time. Her bright blue eyes were wide with terror, hope slaughtered by the most brutal of circumstances. I stood before her, broken but defiant. She had brought me this far, carrying me when I could not lift myself. She made this world beautiful and I...I needed that. Thedas needed that. Therefore, I would rid my land of what blighted it...so that lights like Leliana's could shine unhindered by war, slaughter, and suffering. 

     "I love you...dear heart." I called across the lifetime that separated us. 

     Then I lifted the sword and walked, step by painful step to the archdemon, ignoring my injuries, ignoring the spinning of the world. I was accompanied by Wynne's magic, Sten's blade, Burrow's teeth, and my lover's arrows. They protected me as I approached the archdemon and readied myself to strike the blow.

      _The.     Final.     Blow._


	24. To Watch a Falling Star

**Leliana**

     I fired arrow after arrow into the thickening cluster of darkspawn even though my eyes blurred with tears, obscuring my aim. My heart sounded like a dead thing in my chest, as though some cruel god had replaced breathing flesh with cracking glass. Salem walked towards the archdemon's still living body, dragging a massive sword behind her, stalwart in her resolve. Her armor had been destroyed, and under the dirt and grime of battle I knew that she was so hurt, so much in pain that she struggled to move one foot in front of the other. 

      _Thus the hero goes to her death, her final words a proclamation of love. Let the gods above rip open the skies in chorus: a heartrending crescendo of loss, for they have taken a song most beautiful and replaced it with silence. A silence that cannot be broken by word or song or memory._

     The world seemed to fall still as Salem reached the archdemon. She stood, shoulders slumped, knees near giving out, clutching the hilt of the greatsword and forcing herself to remain on her feet. Two shrieks lumbered after the woman who would save Thedas. I fitted two arrows to my bowstring and fired, striking both targets in the back. They would not take her from me. Not my Salem. My hope. My promise of peace. 

     _Ferelden's most beautiful daughter. Thedas' truest knight. The sole person who will ever carry my soul. I may have wished never to love again, but I am beyond grateful that I did._ _So..._ there were more tears now, tears that were meant to be shed in her arms as the world collapsed around us.  _...So that I would know the true light that resides in the human spirit. That I may witness its beauty...for I have already seen that it is cruel._

      _Oh, Maker,_ the Divine's letter burned against my chest, where I had carried it since its receipt.  _You sent me that vision...not only so that I could aid in preserving this land, but so that I could enter your service, having seen the purity that still exists in the world. I am here because in Lothering, I knew to find her. I knew that Salem Cousland might change me, might give me her heart...a heart that does not belong in any human hand._

     My body and my mind cried out for the lover they would lose and I ran closer to her, nocking another arrow as I ran. I stopped when I reached Wynne and the qunari, both of who had taken a defensive posture. The mage's face was taut with exhaustion and white with worry. Her eyes shone with fear and grief as we watched Salem struggle to stand without support of the blade she needed to use. Suddenly, Wynne did not seem to be a simple friend any longer. She looked like a woman watching her own child stand against all the forces of the abyss. 

     Sten laid a hand on my shoulder and I looked up at the horned giant, wondering at the show of compassion from such a man...if one could call him a man. 

     "This is a good death." he spoke, a note of approval at last in his voice. 

      _ **No! It is not!**  _My heart shrieked.  _If men were gods death would not haunt this world. I know what you are saying, Sten, and I thank you for honoring her but this...This. Is. **Wrong!**_

     "We have more to worry about than what may be." Wynne spoke, bringing all our eyes to the darkspawn that rushed at us, still intent on slaughter, still bound to the powerful will of the archdemon. 

     I let my arrow fly; watched as it struck true, and reached for another. My body shuddered and I heard the sickening sound of leather being punched through by metal. Wynne turned her head to look at me and she immediately muttered a string of incomprehensible words and drew her staff across the stone in a wide arc. A powerful barrier arose before us and Sten charged through it, into the attacking throng, Burrow at his heels, howling a cry of war. 

    I nocked my arrow, ignoring the fact that Wynne, our healer, abandoned the fight and approached me. I could not understand why she would turn her back on the enemy and walk towards me. I loosed my arrow and the missile flew through the barrier while sharp pain sliced across my neck. My bow snapped in half and clattered to the stone of the roof. 

     Wynne reached out for me. "Leliana." I scarcely registered the senior enchanter's voice, for my eyes had fallen on my lover, and the figure she cut mesmerized me. 

     Salem stood above the archdemon, sword held high in trembling arms. She brought the blade down and a beam of white light erupted, bringing with it a shrilling cry that resounded in our ears and caused the ground to tremble. 

     Sharp pain lanced through my chest and my leg went numb. I felt myself fall backwards and tensed in anticipation of the stone jarring every bone. Instead, Wynne caught me in her arms and kept me standing. Sten and Burrow ceased fighting as the pillar of light shot into the sky. The darkspawn, too, went still, looking at the radiance that threatened to blind us all. The archdemon roared and Salem pulled the sword up and brought it down again, severing the dragon's head from its body. 

     The blinding glare coalesced and gathered into itself, erupting in a wave that knocked those standing near it off of their feet.

      _ **"Salem!"**_ I screamed my lover's name as I watched her body be flung away, dashed against the unforgiving stone parapets of Fort Drakon.  **  
**

     I reached out to her and cried out as pain gashed straight into my lung. Wynne eased me to the ground and I fought the motion, needing to stand, to run, to do  _something_.

     "Leliana,  _be **still**_!" Wynne ordered, but I did not listen, struggling away from her, even though every movement caused pain to shatter through my chest and legs. 

     " _ **Let. Me.** **Go!**_ " I shrieked, thrashing until I felt Wynne's magic coil around me, holding me motionless. 

     "Leliana, you've been shot." the healer informed me, grim. "Two crossbow bolts, one in your leg, one in your chest, and it is perilously close to your lung.  _Be still!_ " 

     "I do not care!" I sobbed, struggling against the calming, soporific magic that held me. "Wynne, I have to go to her,  _I have to!_ " 

     Wynne's eyes were soft as her gore covered hand stroked through my hair. Her concern was for the living, and Salem was... _No. I will **not** believe it! Not until my vision is fulfilled! Not until I touch her skin and see the life gone from her eyes! She cannot be dead! She  **can't!**_

     "The darkspawn are retreating." Sten came to us. "The warden has prevailed."

     I looked down at my body, feeling my stomach turn as I saw the crossbow bolts embedded there, one in my chest, on the right side, the other in my left thigh. Blood stained the leather of my armor, but it did not matter. What mattered was my lover's blood, spilled on the rooftop of Fort Drakon, on every blade of grass in Ferelden. 

     "We must get Leliana to a safe place." Wynne spoke to the qunari. "She needs immediate healing attention, and I cannot work with all of these darkspawn so near."

     "No, please." I begged, almost sobbing, knowing that I had become desperation personified. "Take me to Salem, please, I do not care if it  _kills_ me!"

     "Leliana," Wynne spoke again, her voice too gentle, too kind, too filled with common sense. 

      _What good will it do to look upon the dead?_

     "Let the living bury their dead, mage." Sten set his sword aside and slipped his massive arms beneath my legs and under my shoulders. 

     I screamed as he lifted me and the arrow in my chest jolted and jarred. I watched through blurring vision as the darkspawn ran rampant in the chaos, dropping their weapons, no longer united under a single voice. The shadow over the sun moved away and the cruel light of day shone down on the tainted creatures, confusing them yet further. It was a rout...an utter, complete victory. 

      _And yet I have lost this war._ I felt tears in my eyes as pain gnawed at my body, making it difficult to breathe. 

     Sten carried me to Salem's body. She lay against the wall of a tower as though in repose. Bile rose in my throat as I saw the melted, torn shirt, the garish, flowing rivers of burn marks across her strong arms and chest. My heart snapped as my bowstring had when I saw a dark bruise in the center of her chest, almost black in color from all the blood lost beneath the skin. I saw the yellow bone of her right leg protruding from the skin, jagged and splintered. 

     Sten knelt and set me down beside her. I crawled the last few feet, every movement made in agony dulled by the screaming in my heart. I had foreseen every moment of this. 

     Salem's blue eyes were open, fixed on a horizon that I had never before seen, a sunrise in a land of peace, where sorrow did not dwell. Her lips, torn and bleeding, were stamped with a slight smile as she at last greeted those that the cruel swords of enemies had torn from her. 

     I reached out and took my lover's hand in mine. The skin was burned and blackened, but warm, letting me remember the fire of her touch, the conflagrations in her eyes, the brilliant light that had encompassed her life. I brought her scorched, bloodied knuckles to my lips as black danced at the edges of my vision. I did not care. I did not want to live in a world without her...did not want to wear her ring without being able to hold the hand and heart that had given it, and its promise, to me. 

     "I love you, Salem Cousland." I whispered as breathing became more difficult. "Go into the Maker's grace..."

     I paused as the hand I held squeezed my own. Hope spiraled into my heart...but hope was dashed as I realized it was nothing more than a muscle spasm, common in those who had just passed on. 

     "Don't leave me." I begged, all thoughts of holy words forsaken. 

     I could not be the Nightingale here, cold and impassive and shadowed in the face of death. I could not be the sister of the Chantry, spouting meaningless words meant to comfort the soul. I was Leliana, and I grieved. I was Leliana, and, in this, I was selfish. I was Leliana, and I  _wanted her back._

     "Please," I whispered a prayer, a need, a wish, a longing, a dream, an  _everything._ "Please, Salem,  _please. Come back._ "

      _I need you so much, I love you so much, this is not right not right not right please come back I love you don't leave me don't die again this is not how this is meant to end!_

     Tears dripped off of my chin and I let her hand fall from my own. I closed my eyes and her muscles spasmed...harsher and stronger, her hand gripping mine to the point where my fingers were pinched. I opened my eyes and saw her own looking at mine...

     ...and the insufferable woman  _winked._


	25. The Reason Why We Compromise Our Souls

**Salem**

     _"Very well, witch." I walk to Morrigan, making certain that she looks into my eyes, sees the promise of death within. "I have my answer. And you may dislike what I am next to tell you."_

_Morrigan lifts an elegant, sculpted brow, daring me to surprise her, or worse, to keep my answer the same. "_

_"I did advise you against trying my patience, warden." the witch smiles, as though she can sense my next words, and the future._

_I bite my lip and stare at the ground, thinking of Morrigan's words. How she had spoken about Leliana...my bard's voice as it greets the sunrise, shrieks in battle...breaks with sorrow. In my mind's eye, I see the tears of grief on my lover's face, knowing that, more often than not, I am the cause of those tears._

_**I have the chance to save Leliana from a life spent in mourning. I have the chance to...to broker a deal with a demon. For the sake of love. As my nameless ancestor did before me. Perhaps, I am no better. Perhaps there is an inescapable darkness in all of our hearts...that darkness that wishes to defy fate. To live. To love.**_

      _"I will go to Alistair." I inform Morrigan, feeling my soul splinter. "And, if he agrees, and this ritual is done, then I warn you now, witch. If your child becomes something gravely unnatural, if at any time its existence is a threat to my country, I will seek it out, hunt it down, and slaughter it in front of you."_

_Shock lights the woman's amber eyes. She turns her gaze from me and looks into the fire._

_"You are not to follow me, Salem." she whispers. "This is not how such things are managed. If I complete the final ritual, I will join you for the battle in Denerim, and when it is done, I will be on my way, and you **will not** seek me out."_

_I laugh, bitter and deep in my chest. "You may have no phylactery, Morrigan, but you have seen my determination. Do you truly believe you can remain hidden if I desire to find you?"_

_"'Tis true that you are a formidable opponent, Salem, but the events of this night need not make us enemies. Consider this my final favor, and one for which I will ask no repayment." Morrigan's voice sounded soft, but I knew it was not. Razors possessed a delicate, subtle edge...they cut deep._

_I rise from my seat and go to the door. The night will soon be done, and I wish to return to the comfort of my bed and the warmth of the woman I adore. The woman I will consort with hell to remain beside._

_"You cold-hearted bitch." I whisper to Morrigan. "You have manipulated me cruelly. We both know this for truth. Do not think you can contort your face into a mask against me any longer. I see the triumph in your eyes, and I feel as though I have stumbled into the gravest of traps."_

_"You must still garner the buffoon's consent." Morrigan chides. "Perhaps you will depart this place with your supposed soul unstained. I not, 'tis no loss for me."_

_**Nothing ever is, Morrigan.**_ _I think. **In all of this, you are the one among us who has sacrificed nothing. And now you offer to give up your body, to make yourself a vessel for the soul of a dead god and a child that I could never, should I live for an eternity, see you desiring...it does not bode well.**_

_**But I am tired of bleeding for others. I am tired of whoring myself to the world, letting them break off my flesh and embroider their names into my scars. At the end of the day, when faced with my mortality...I am weak. Fragile. Selfish. In love.**_

_**Human.** _

* * *

      _"You want me to..." Alistair goes green, sick with the very thought. "Salem, I...she...how do I know there are no... **teeth**?"_

_I want to laugh, but all mirth has fled from me. Instead, I fall to my knees, making no attempt to hide the tears that stream down my face. I am willing to be broken, in this moment. I am willing to get on my knees before the man I have half-carried through the Blight. Because I have need of him now in a way I never have before._

_In my selfishness, I am taking from him something he will possess only once. I am asking him to sacrifice a memory that is forever seared in the mind. To give his innocence to a woman who cares for no one but herself._

_"Alistair, please." I beg him, beseeching him with my eyes. "I know that this is distasteful, and I would find it equally so, but, I **beg** you..."_

_"Beg?" he asks. "Beg? Salem, there is no begging that can make this right. There is no defense...what you have described to me is **dark** magic. Before I was a warden, I was a templar, and..."_

_"And you hated it." I interrupt him, trying to distract him from the thought of magic._

_My mind is already aswirl with all the dark implications of this pact, this bond, this ritual. I know that it is evil; every time that it is mentioned my soul feels as though it is soaked in soot. Morrigan is asking me to sunder all that I believe in, all that I hold dear...and I am willing. Maker save me, I am willing._

_**If this ritual is done, if this does indeed transpire...then I will never be clean again. I will never greet the Maker. I will never see my father's face or my mother's smile. I will never hear Oren's voice raised in laughter...I will not know eternity in paradise. But I will have a life with Leliana. I will be able to greet her with the morning, listen to her songs, embrace her and lose myself in her until we become but one soul.**_

_**It is worth it. It must be worth it.** _

_"I did hate my life as a templar." Alistair admits. "But I hated dark magic equally. I've seen the things it does to people, Salem. Power turns good men into vile creatures and Morrigan is...already vile. How...how could you even consider this? It is not in your character."_

_"Do not think that I hold this idea in high esteem, Alistair." I sigh and bury my tear-stained face in my hands. "I want to live. Is that a crime?" I look up at him through reddened, swollen, scarred eyes. "Is it a crime to wish to live, to love?"_

_He walks to me and rests his hand on my shoulder, sitting down beside me on the bed I have asked him to share with...with a soulless harpy._

_"I understand, Salem." he smiles, but there is worry behind it. "If you were Leliana, and I were you...if I had a love so deep and true and powerful...I would do much the same. Go to Morrigan and tell her," he heaved a sigh full of remorse and apprehension, "tell her that her ritual will be completed."_

_Unable to speak, overcome with emotion, I fling my arms around him, pulling him tight to me. He returns the embrace, wishing that it could be more...knowing, as we both do, that it cannot._

_I leave his embrace and walk towards the door, my heart heavy, my shoulders stooped, my sorrow knowing no bounds. I wish that I might fulfill this ritual myself...if only to...to spare my brother this trial. I look back at him and his eyes are full of grief and fear. Behind those emotions I see the overwhelming depth of his love...a love and a heart that he has wasted on someone who cannot be his. For I am taken already._

_**I know that you do this because you love me, Alistair, as more than a warden, more than a sister. I am sorry that I asked this of you...and I am even more ashamed that I am allowing you to consent. Maker, please forgive me. Please.**_ __

* * *

      _I walk through the hall and find Morrigan's door. I know that I can turn back. I know that I can lie and tell her that Alistair refused her offer. I could keep my soul clean and preserve Alistair's innocence. But I cannot...I cannot return to Leliana, cannot hold her and know that I chose to die instead of to be with her. All that she has known and loved has been taken. I will not add to that suffering. It is another thing that I cannot do._

_I open the door and see the witch standing before the fire, looking every inch a predator. In rare form, her hair is down, a glossy raven waterfall. She turns to me, backlit by the flames, and I can understand those that would lust after her. She is the beauty of a diamond, cold and sharp, but an object of desire, nonetheless._

_"Well?" she asks, her tone that soft razor's edge once more._

_"He is waiting for you." I glare at her, burning from her acidic gaze, but unwilling to back down from this moment._

_I am sinning, and I will own my transgression. I will not be shamed for my choice, no matter how despicable it is._

_Morrigan smiles and it makes me sick. My gut twists, my heart aches, and I want to recant all that I have done. But I will not. I cannot._

_"Then I shall not waste my time." she says, walking towards the door I have entered._

_"Morrigan," I stall her before she departs, catching her about the arm, "is there...will this work?"_

_"In truth," she sighs, "I am uncertain. The prerequisites have all been seen to, but at the end of the day, magic works as it will. I will need to be near you for this ritual to be effective, at least at the edge of the city where the archdemon strikes."_

_"And if you die?" I ask. "If you are injured or fall in the battle?"_

_"Should I fall, 'tis all for naught." she whispers, and in her eyes I see the slightest hint of trepidation._

_"Then you will accompany Eamon." I order. "We have already agreed that his detachment will delay before departing Redcliffe. I will not risk your life, Morrigan. After the battle, you are free to go."_

_"With your promise to find me still intact?" she glares at me, eating into my already shrieking heart._

_"What do you think, witch?" I hiss._

_"That you should be grateful and think of nothing but the lie you will be able to live." she answers. "You will not regret this, Salem."_

_She walks through the door, and my eyes follow her to Alistair's room. She knocks, the door opens, and she enters. I lean against the door post, sliding to the floor in despondence, sick at the thought of what Alistair is sacrificing...for me._

_"I already do regret it, Morrigan." I whisper to the nothing and the no one that will hear._

_After a moment of struggling to gather my composure, I get to my feet, tracing my way back to the room that I share with Leliana. I enter as silently as I may, not wishing to wake her. I walk to the bed and let my fingers whisper over her face, smoothing the lines of worry that crease her features, even in slumber._

_**I love you, Leliana. So much that the sanctity of my soul is forfeit. So much that I willingly break the laws of heaven and right. I have told you before that you are everything to me. That was never more true than it is now, in this moment. Sleep well, dear heart...and dream sweetly.**_

 

 


	26. Pain and Panic

**Leliana**

_"When morning comes, will this be ended?"_

_Salem wraps her arms around me and I trace my fingertips over the blue lines of scarring, my hand coming to a stop over the thick line of white tissue, the knife-scar left by Cauthrien's anger._

_"Of course not, dear heart. I am here. With you. Always." her voice resonates against my ear, causing my heart to burn._

_It is a pleasant sort of pain, one that I have become accustomed to during the months I have spent with Salem. It had begun the moment I first set eyes on her, deepening to a roar over the time we spent together. It threatened to consume me when I first saw tears come to her eyes. And now, I feel as though I will be lost without it. Without her._

_"So...when I wake from this dream...you will still be with me?" I ask, feeling my throat tighten with anxiety and tears._

_"I promise." she whispers, and her lips ghost against my cheek._

_I press my body against hers, wanting to believe, praying to the Maker and whatever god will listen._

_**Let this be true. Heavens, hells, and angels, let this be true.**_

_"Say it again." I beg, needing to hear her reassurance, needing her strength to fill me and give me hope in a way that no other ever has or can._

_"I promise, Madame Leliana."_

_"What?" I pull away from her, eyes wide at the title that she has never spoken to me._

_"Madame Leliana?" it is a question now, and I close my eyes against a sudden, shooting pain through my temples._

* * *

     "Madame Leliana?" a voice from vague memories called to me. 

     Keeping my eyes closed, I tried to sit up; felt warm hands on my shoulders, pushing me back down against something...soft. A dull ache radiated through my body and I winced at the sudden burst of pain. 

     "You shouldn't move." the voice cautioned. "At least not until the healers have assessed you."

      _Where do I know this voice from?_ I wondered, running through my overburdened memory, attempting to conjure the soft, hesitant voice that spoke to me now, and had done so before. 

     I heard rythmic footfalls in the silence. It sounded like someone pacing across stone floors. It made the pain in my head intensify and I winced. 

     "Shianni, stop pacing." the voice rang again, and I began to remember...

     ... _a young elven mother, held captive in the alienage. She was ill and undernourished...I remember now. Alistair and I carried her and her child back to safety. Her name was...was..._ _  
_

"We should get back, Kallian." I heard the strong, slightly acerbic voice of the red-haired elf who had almost refused to leave her home so that we could defend it. "Our people need us."

     "You've been free to go this entire time, Shianni." Kallian countered, and in the firmness of her voice I could sense that she did indeed share blood with her firebrand cousin. "But this woman saved my daughter's life, and mine, with no thought of repayment."

     "She did so under the warden's orders." Shianni's voice dropped, almost in defeat. "And I refuse to owe Cousland a damned thing."

     My heart felt heavy at their mention of my lover, and I remembered that I did not know anything. I did not know anything except who Salem  _was_. And that she would never have taken repayment for the saving of an innocent life. 

     "Salem," my throat felt scratchy, "would tell you...that you owe her nothing."

     I heard a scoff of disbelief. "No shem is that damnably noble."

      _Salem is._

     "Then will you believe...that you owe me nothing?" I managed to mutter, wishing to open my eyes, but knowing that I would simply feel more of the pain that encroached on my sanity further with every passing moment. 

     "This is not the time..."

     "For semantic bickering." Kallian interrupted her cousin. "Shianni, go back to our people. Watch over Evary for me, please."

     "And what will you do?" Shianni asked her cousin. 

     "I will continue to try to change things, cousin." I could hear a slight smile in Kallian's voice. "In my own way."

     I heard the sound of footsteps once again, then the opening and closing of a door on rusted hinges. It seemed as though tension fled the room, but I did not know if I wanted to wake fully and face what might have happened. 

     "Can you open your eyes?" Kallian's voice held utter concern, with the barest edge of fear. 

     I braced for the discomfort and, slow, pulled my eyelids open. They watered and burned as the dim light from the torch illuminating the room pierced them. I blinked, rapidly, letting my eyes adjust to the light so that I could take in my surroundings. I was alone with Kallian in a quiet room with walls in various states of disrepair. Rubble was splashed across the floor, the tapestries were all but ruined. Arrows had pierced several of them, and others were charred and burned almost to ash. 

     "Where..." my voice cracked. "...where am I?"

     "In the residential wing of Fort Drakon." Kallian moved into my line of sight, her green eyes filled with ill-concealed worry, shadows beneath her eyes, auburn hair, several shades darker than her cousin's, tied back. "It took less damage than the rest of the Fort, and the healer's are using it as an infirmary."

     "Ah." I made a noise of understanding and once more tried to move, but Kallian sat down beside me and pushed me back against the pillows with gentle hands. 

     "Lie still." she ordered, brushing away the strands of hair that were in front of my face, making it itch. 

     "What...what happened?" I asked. "How did I come to be here?"

     "Your warden saved us all." she said, a note of reverence in her voice. "As I understand it, the qunari carried you from the roof. You took an arrow to the chest and another to your right leg. Darkspawn bolts," she shuddered, "nasty things. Your mage friend had to cut them out with a knife. Your wounds are stitched and bandaged, but you need to take it easy or you won't heal properly."

      _But I need to stand,_ my thoughts protested.  _I remember that Salem's eyes were open. She looked at me and from thence I...I remember nothing. But now I understand why I am in such pain._ _  
_

"I am...grateful." I whispered to the young elven woman, who had given me so much.

     "I would wait before you say such things." Kallian offered a slight smile. "I need to change your bandages."

     "Might I trouble you for some water?" I asked through chapped lips and a parched throat. 

     "Of course." Kallian rose and walked to the desk, where a pitcher of water stood. 

     She poured the water into a cup and returned to me, cupping the back of my neck with a strong, delicate hand. She touched the cup to my lips and I drank the water slowly so that it did not worsen the nausea churning in my gut. Kallian set the cup aside and offered me another slight smile. 

     "Forgive me for the intrusion on your privacy, milady." she whispered, soft. "But I must follow the mage healer's orders. I apologize if this causes you any pain."

     With gentle, calculated movements, she pulled down the warm blanket that covered my body. I shivered in the slight chill, wincing from the pain of moving, before realizing that, beneath the blanket, I wore absolutely nothing. I looked down at my body, the scars littering the skin, and the two crimson-stained bandages. One had been wrapped around my leg, the other secured to my chest. 

     Kallian's hands tugged at the bandages and I bit my lip as the movement irritated the wound beneath. At last, the bandages came away, dirty with dried blood and spent herbs. The elf reached down and retrieved a bottle of wine and a fresh cloth. She glanced at me, her eyes apologetic, before pouring the wine over the clear, crisp stitches holding my skin together. I hissed through clenched teeth at the fresh onslaught of pain.

     Kallian worked with smooth, confident motions as she cleaned the wound, spread a thick. pungent salve across the abused flesh, and replaced the soiled bandage with a clean one. By the time she had finished the same process on my leg, I was shaking from the cold and the pain. Sweat trickled down my forehead and burned in my eyes as I did my best to stop the tremors racking me. 

     Kallian pulled the blanket back over me, saying comforting nonsense, but nothing that she could say, no action that she could take, could ease the worry and the torment in my heart. I needed to know if Salem had survived. I needed to see her. 

     A cool cloth smoothed across my forehead, wiping away the sweat and tears. Kallian's green eyes were eloquent in pain as I gazed up at them. I wanted to ask her of Salem, but also dreaded that she might know the answer, and that it might be...the worst of news. 

     "Thank you." I breathed, feeling the herbs begin their work of dulling the pain and keeping the swelling down. 

     "It is the least I can do." Kallian replied, lifting the cup of water once more and helping me drink. "You saved me, my child, and my people. Attending to your injuries is the least that I can do, though you said you would ask no repayment."

      _I would not. I could not. All I wish to ask for is the life of my lover. Please, dear Maker, let her have survived. Let my vision, in this, be a lie. Please. I beg of you._

     As if in answer to my prayer, I heard the door of the room creak. Wynne entered the room and alarm fired through me as I saw the worry in her drained, watery blue eyes. She knelt beside me and Kallian backed away, ceding her duties to the healer mage. 

     "It is good to see color in your cheeks, child." Wynne offered a motherly smile. "You have had us quite worried."

     "Salem?" I interrupted, hating the tears that sprang to my eyes at the mention of her name. "Is she..."

     "That is why I am here." Wynne's voice was calm...too calm. "By some miracle," she continued, "the warden still lives. However," Wynne's eyes pierced mine, an unnatural serenity in them, "you have been unconscious for six candlemarks. Salem's condition is...critical."

     Panic gripped my heart and I attempted to sit up, only for Wynne to force me back down. Her hands took on the liquid blue glow of healing magic and the lines in her veins seemed more defined as the warmth of her spell numbed the pain that sliced across my nerves. The tightness in my chest eased as she completed the spell, and I felt immediately able to take a deeper breath. 

     "Maker, forgive me." Wynne hung her head, her loose, white hair falling, sweaty and tangled, around her face. "Leliana, I am sorry to ask this of you, but I need you to come with me. The spell I just cast should keep your wounds from opening, but I warn you, moving will not be pleasant."

     "Anything." I whispered. 

     I could disregard the demands and complaints of my body, forego all sense and sensibilities, if it meant that I could aid Salem in some way. I needed to be at her side, holding her hand, watching her breathe. She could not die. Not now, not after all that we had endured. 

     Kallian moved towards the bed, a bundle of cloth in her hand. 

     "Clothes." she murmured, refusing to meet Wynne's eyes. "They might not fit her well, but they are better than her torn, bloodstained things."

     "Thank you, my dear." Wynne replied, and Kallian faded out of sight once more. 

     Wynne extended her hands and I raised mine and grasped hers. Slow, careful, the senior enchanter aided me into a sitting position. She allowed me a moment to gather my breath and composure before easing my legs over the edge of the bed. 

     "Raise your arms as much as you are able." she said.

     I followed the order and attempted to be as little of a burden as possible as Wynne helped me into the dark linen shirt. The trousers were next, and I could not restrain a small noise of pain as the material slid across my bandaged leg. Soon, however, I was clothed, and without further words, Wynne hoisted my arm around her shoulders and helped me stand. 

     I bit the inside of my cheek as the room spun and the pain made my stomach churn. Wynne held me close until I steadied myself and when I nodded that I felt ready, we began to leave the room, moving slow. Every step required that I lean more heavily on the mage, for my injured leg could not bear my weight, and the heaviness in my chest increased so that I felt I could not breathe. I did not care. 

     "How..." I gasped the question as we walked, "...is Salem?"

     "Her right leg was badly broken and cut. The blow from the dragon's tail cracked her breastbone." Wynne's voice tremored as she strove to keep it cold and clinical. "Her left ear drum has been ruptured, and she was pierced by a crossbow bolt in the back. Her side has a deep puncture from a dagger. Her arms, chest, and back have been grievously burned by the archdemon's blood. The massive amount of tainted blood mingling with her has poisoned her blood; her temperature keeps rising. Her skull is fractured...she lost consciousness before the healers arrived and she has remained so ever since. Due to her hereditary condition...we have been forced to be sparing in our use of magic."

     Silent tears spilled from my eyes as I registered the horrific amount of damage that had been dealt to my lover. She had endured so much already, emerged victorious...and paid such a grievous price. 

     "I cannot lie to you, Leliana." Wynne murmured and as much as I did not want to hear what next she said, I needed to know. "Salem is, on some level, feeling the pain she is in. We have given her poppy syrup in hopes to manage her discomfort, but there is great risk in that as well, as it slows the beating of the heart." the healer's voice cracked, but she persisted. "Leliana, it is...it is very likely that Salem will  _not_ survive."

      _No._ I rebelled against the thought.  ** _No._** _Salem Cousland, you **will not** die! Not after all that we have been through! Not after you brought an ancient god to judgment! I will enter eternity and  **drag you back** , kicking and screaming, if I must._ 

     Wynne knocked at another door and it opened. A young mage nodded and Wynne, then his eyes moved to me and his gaze hardened. 

     "Mistress Wynne," he spoke, voice quavering, "you, of course, may enter, but First Enchanter Irving said that none but the healers were allowed..."

     "Get out of my way, young one." Wynne spoke in the most severe tone I had ever heard her use. 

     "But, Mistress Wynne..."

     " _I_ will handle Irving." Wynne used a burst of magic to sweep the door aside. "This is beyond your comprehension."

     "But..."

     Wynne ignored him and led me to Salem. My heart broke as I gazed at my lover. I stared at the blood-stained bandages across the deeper wounds. The burns had been left unbandaged, covered with aloe to help them heal and exposed to the air to keep them from becoming infected. The rivers of angry, deep wounds made my gut twist and churn in the most unpleasant of ways. 

     She lay naked and uncovered, more vulnerable than I had ever seen her. A deep, black flower bloomed beneath her chest and across her breasts where the bone had been cracked. Her leg had been splinted, bound tight between two slats of wood, wreckage pulled from the city streets. Her skin was unnaturaly pale, and I could see the crease between her brows and the thinning of her lips and I knew that Wynne had told me the truth. Salem could feel the pain of her body, the pain of the fever that scorched her veins and left her sweating and shivering. 

     "Mistress Wynne," the young mage spoke again, "I don't see what good this will do."

     "Hush, child." Wynne ordered.

     Gentle, the senior enchanter disentangled her body from mine. I leaned against the bed while Wynne left my side and brought a chair closer. She helped me ease into it and I closed my eyes as pain washed over me. I steadied myself, breathing shallow, forcing my body to endure the hell I  _knew_ Salem would go through for me...hell she  _had_ gone through for me. 

     The young mage, still concerned, edged closer. 

     "Salem." I took her hand, whispering her name as a prayer. "Come back to me, my love. I am waiting for you. We all..." I looked to Wynne for confirmation; she nodded and my heart filled with joy. "...we _all_ are waiting for you. Linger no longer, my love. Please. Come back to me.  _Fight._ "

     I clung to the hand that felt too dry and too hot against my skin. I followed the river of deep, blackened burns caused by rivulets of acidic blood ravaging her skin. I knew that she battled the deeper, darker taint of the archdemon's blood mingling with her own and I begged the Maker to give her strength to rise above her injuries, open her eyes again, see the world, walk and speak with those she loved and had protected. 

     "Her...her breathing has evened." the young mage sounded astonished. "And her temperature has dropped. Even our magic hasn't...Maker's breath. Mistress Wynne, what is happening to her? What  _is this?_ "

     I pressed Salem's hand to my cheek, watering the dry skin with my tears, my body shuddering with pain as I sobbed for the world that had been nothing but cruel to the stalwart, selfless lover I adored. I did not care for the question asked by the young healer...but I did care for the answer. 

     Wynne's reply echoed in my ears, burning deep and leaving a scar of its own...the scar of those who placed their faith in love and begged to see it justified. 

     "This is ancient magic, child." I could hear the smile in Wynne's voice. "Older than the gods themselves, and far, far more powerful."

 


	27. Denying Paradise

**Salem**

     _"You've done nothing but stare at me in wonder since you came here," Eleanor Cousland speaks, a smile resting behind her eyes, warm and comforting. "Is something wrong?"_

_I stand there, still stupefied, amazed that I am standing in front of Cousland Hall. My body is hale and hearty, undamaged, unscarred, unbroken. I can feel the wind on my face, and there is a heaviness gone from my chest and spirit, as though some great burden has been lifted. I look at the woman standing in front of me, the mother I thought I would never see again._

_**She is here. She, whose face I thought I would never gaze upon again, whose comforting though and sagacity I thought forever removed from my life...is standing before me. It is as though the past year has never happened, as though I am not a Grey Warden.**_

_"Are you a dream?" I ask, finding my voice at last, wanting to run to her, embrace her, bleed my tears onto her shoulders._

_She waits to answer, offering a smile before sitting down on a garden bench, patting the seat beside her in invitation. I sit down, admiring the sculpted topiaries, the cobblestone walkways, and the vivid flowers of my ancestral home's gardens. My father and mother both possessed a great love of beauty, and together, after the war, they built this sanctum. Once, it was a training ground for soldiers. Now, a sanctuary for quiet repose._

_**Filled with roses. Mother always did love flowers with thorns...great beauty is never captured without danger and pain, she would say. If only you could see what beauty the Maker has given me. Leliana is a woman after your own heart, mother. I like to think...I like to think that you would approve of my choice.**_

_"I am more than a dream; less than reality." Eleanor answers at last._

_**More than a dream...** fear pulses through me and my heart begins to race. If this is not the simple traipsing of my unconscious mind in the Fade, then what is it? If I am not dreaming, then is it possible..._

_**...white light...blinding pain...someone screaming for me from across a great chasm of time and space...an ancient god clawing at my soul, then fleeing as though summoned away by a greater power...Maker's fucking blood...**_

_"Mother, am I...am I dead?" I question, turning to her and laying my hand on her arm...finding that her flesh is solid, real, that I can feel the heat of the blood beneath her skin._

_**In all of my dreams, I have never been able to touch the ones I have lost. They were always cruel figments, bodies of smoke and vapors, sweet illusions of the life that once was mine.**_

_"You are not yet gone, my child." she squeezes my hand._

_**But...but I circumvented death. I did Morrigan's ritual; I made the mistake. I should be alive, breathing, holding Leliana in my arms and laughing at destiny and the dictates of magic. Why, then, why am I here? **_

_"Then what..."_

_"Did you think the witch's ritual would magic away your wounds?" Eleanor asks, a gentle tease. "You fought a dragon, Salem, a creature of hideous, ancient magic inhabited by the soul of an old god. Grey Warden you may be, but your body is still human and still fragile. While you may have been spared the death that comes to all wardens who have felled an archdemon, you still teeter over the brink of eternity."_

_"If I am near death, then why are you with me? This...to be home, to be with those I love...this is what I have desired of death. It is something that I would never have been given in light of..." I sigh, feeling my soul collapse inward, "...in light of the decisions I have made."_

_"Oh, Salem." my mother wraps her arm about my shoulders and I sink into her embrace, needing her comfort, longing for her assurances. "The Maker chose a bride crafted of fire and passion, a woman who marched on the Tevinter Imperium and who perished in flames at the edicts of cruel magisters. Those who walk the earth have imagined the Maker as one who despises magic, that those born with it are cursed, and that any who choose its path, though it may not run in their blood, are doomed to the abyss."_

_"And?" I wonder, feeling much like one of those._

_I know that the actions I took to save my life were made out of selfishness. Not fear, not anger, but out of pure want and desire to continue living and loving in a bitter, horrific world. Such a thing could...could not be seen and blessed, even if the god that condemned it no longer looked upon his children._

_"It is not so." Eleanor comforts me. "I fancied myself wise when I lived...when faced with the antics of my children these days, it would appear I was right, so grand are the deeds they have done. But I have gained so much more knowledge since the day I entered eternity; knowledge that I wish the dead could forever impart to the living, as I have the freedom to do now."_

_My heart catches in my throat. "What...what sort of knowledge?"_

_"Magic works inherently for neither good nor ill, in the eyes of the Maker. The intent of its user is what matters. While the witch will be judged for the intent of her ritual, be it for selfless reasons or wicked schemes, the intent of your acceptance was not of evil make. You made your decision out of love."_

_"But," I interrupted, not understanding, "...no. Mother, I chose to do it because **I** did not wish to die. Because I **selfishly** wanted to remain among the living...because...because..."_

_"Salem," her hand strokes through my hair in the same way as she used to, many years ago, when I was a child, "you must cease this judgment of yourself. It is good to question your decisions, to accept guilt when it is warranted, but you, my girl...you take it to an extreme. You need not crucify yourself for crimes you have not committed. In this matter, I guarantee, you are the sole one who condemns your actions. Your father and I hold nothing against you. You have done our name no disservice or dishonor. Stop letting pain conquer your beautiful heart."_

_**Leliana...would say the same. But...I do not know how else to be. Perhaps this is what my mother and my bard have been trying to teach me. How to change. How to live free from doubt.**_

_"Doubt is fear," Eleanor speaks, wisdom ringing through her voice, "and fear is love's greatest enemy. You have never doubted your love for the Orlesian bard, Salem. And this decision, that ritual, was completed because of your wish to continue to love. Love is the Maker's very essence. The Chantry will alter the Chant of Light, interpret it in ways that suit their needs, but all you need to know, my girl, is that if you act out of the purity of love, the Maker will always smile upon you."_

_**Then I am...not damned? If I die, I can return with my mother, see my father's face, swing my nephew in my arms? I can look down on the world and know no pain, remember no wounds, and be free of scars?**_

_"Mother, I am afraid." I admit, words I have not spoken to her since I was a very small child._

_"What do you fear?" she asks._

_"The world I will return to. That I will be so broken..." **...so broken that I am no longer beautiful in Leliana's eyes. That she will no longer desire me, and that all I have fought for, all that I have aspired to do and done...will have been for nothing.**_

_My mother pulls an impeccable handkerchief from her sleeve and wipes away my tears with a caring hand._

_"You do not have to return to that world." she smiles. "You have succeeded in your quest; your king and country are safe. If you choose to stay, here, with us, then you would be at peace, Salem."_

_**Peace. It is the meaning of my name. My father's dream for me, and for the world. It is something I have never known. I should very much like to experience it, if only once...but this once would last an eternity. And I am not my sole concern.**_

_"And Leliana?" my voices catches over her name and my mother shakes her head, chuckling softly._

_"Your bard is resilient as they come. All men suffer at the death of their loved ones, but those wounds heal. Leliana is no exception."_

_**No. She is not. Leliana is a rose made of steel and silk. I have shed blood for that rose and I have bled from its thorns. She would heal...but I would not. I cannot choose peace. I cannot choose paradise. Nor,** in my mind's eye, I thought of my lover, my reason, my breath and its purpose, **do I desire to choose those things.**_

_"Will you stay, Salem?" my mother asks. "Will you stay in peace and with your family?"_

_"I made a promise." I smile, looking at the uneven skin-tone on the third finger of my right hand, where a ring once resided...a ring that now rests on Leliana's fingers, holding my pledge to her. "And a Cousland never retracts their word. Even if they must return from death...and the most pleasant of dreams...to do so."_

_My mother takes my cheeks between her hands and presses her lips to my forehead. "You are every inch your father's daughter." her voice trembles. "And no one has ever brought more tears to my eyes than that man."_

_"I have always said that I was the child born for your sorrow." I smile, attempting humor, dark though it is._

_"If my sorrow is the price I must pay for the joy of an entire world, and the heart that holds yours, my daughter, then I will **gladly** pay it." Eleanor rises and extends her hand._

_I take it and she guides me to the gates of Cousland Hall. The world waits beyond, a world of pain and injury and a life certain to be fraught with unceasing peril. I do not know if I will be whole when I awaken. I do not know if I will have my arms, legs, the ability to walk, hear, see, or speak. I do not know what I will return to, but I know that I will be in that uncertainty with Leliana. So long as she is there, that world of pain will also be filled eternal with passion, promise, and joy yet to be tasted._

_"I love you, my girl." my mother whispers, opening the gate._

_"Mother," I reach for her, wanting one final embrace, one lingering touch._

_"No." she shakes her head and I realize the finality of my decision, and that I am glad for it. "The one you love is waiting, Salem. Go, fulfill your promise."_

_"Will it hurt?" I ask, once more wary, sick and weary with pain._

_"Oh, yes." my mother refuses to lie. "But the greatest treasures in life are never won with ease."_

_I turn towards the open gate, placing one foot across the threshold. My back is turned to paradise, heaven, and haven. It is turned against family, blood, bond, and all things that my memory taunts me with in dreaming. I am willing to let the dreams continue to wring tears from my eyes. Because I will wake in the arms of one who loves me, and one whom I love. One for whom I will turn my back on the land the Maker created. One for whom I bid peace farewell._

_**Again, once more, into the fray. There is no battle I would rather fight.**_


	28. Begging for the Simplest Things

**Leliana**

     I had been tortured by the hands of others before. I had screamed from the pain, wept at the violation, and trembled at the thought of touching another human being for years. Now, however, I tortured myself. I lingered in the dark room, doing as much as I could to assist the healers, listening to Salem's every rasping breath, praying for any sign of improvement. I feared the Maker had become deaf to my prayers, for nothing had happened. I could see the slow progress that her body made in knitting her wounds back together, but still her eyes did not open. Her lips did not part but to utter a strangled noise of anguish, and I wondered how she still clung to life.

     _Five days,_ I thought as I wiped sweat from her brow for the millionth time, _it has been five days and still she has not awakened. Why will you not return to the world, my love? Wynne says that you are mending, but I no longer know if she speaks the truth, or tells me a comforting lie to keep me from losing my mind._

     I set the cloth aside and ran my hand through my lank, stringy hair. I could not remember the last time I had bathed, or seen the sun. Too much of who I was depended on the tortured figure still hovering on the brink of death. Salem's skin looked waxy and wan, sweat sheened from the fever still raging through her blood, spiking at unknown intervals and etching worry lines deeper on the faces of the mage healers. Her cheeks were sunken, and I wondered, if she ever did open her eyes, if the color would have been bleached from them.

     _Perhaps it would have been better had she died,_ I thought, _for all I know is that she is suffering...and she has suffered enough for this world._

     "What are you still doing in here?" I glanced up, hearing the snap-crack of Wynne's most disapproving tone.

     "Watching." I answered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Waiting. Praying."

     "All of Ferelden is begging the Maker for her life." Wynne said, a gentle rebuke. "I am certain the Maker will understand the fading of your voice from his ears for the time it would take you to take some fresh air, wash, and rest for a little while."

     "There is no rest for me." I rested my fingers over Salem's still, burned hand. "The dreams eat me alive, Wynne."

     "You must care for yourself." Wynne ordered. "When Salem wakes, do you wish to look at her, see her open eyes, only to faint dead away from exhaustion and delay her recovery by her worrying over you?"

     " _When_ she wakes?" I looked to the senior enchanter's kind eyes. "Is it a matter of 'when'? Or is that further dreaming?"

     "It is a matter of when." the healer assured me. "Now get out of this room. You've been shut up in the dark for too long. The sun has broken through the clouds. It is lovely, reassuring, and you _need_ it. Go."

     I shot daggers at the elder woman with my eyes, but it did not seem to do anything but place a slight smile at the corners of her lips. I rose to my feet, feeling a residual ache in my leg where the crossbow bolt had struck. It was nearly healed...another scar to mark my journey through the Fifth Blight...it felt strange to me, to realize that I had become, through my involvement, a piece of living history. Time would march on, this time would be forgotten, but I would remember, and it would mark me for the rest of my life.

     I stepped out into the sun, wincing and shielding my eyes from the brutal glare, though the warmth infusing my body provided an immense comfort. The tension in my shoulders eased, the thoughts pounding at the fortress of my mind like a battering ram dissipated. I stumbled across the courtyard, finding a bench to sit down on. I sat down and leaned back, letting the sun wash over me, the light piercing even my closed eyes. I wanted to soak up something good, something light, something pure...and pray for the day when I might bask in this light with my lover beside me.

     "Eat. Something." an Antivan accent snarled and the elven assassin held a steaming bowl underneath my nose.

     The scent of herbs nauseated me and I turned away. "Zevran..." I began to protest, though I could not remember the last time I had eaten anything.

     "But it's edible!" he exclaimed, sitting beside me and hugging me around the shoulders with one arm. "Think of it, Leliana. Food prepared by those who are skilled in its making, tender and bursting with flavor, scrumptious and life-affirming. It is tempting, no?"

     I cracked my eyelids to see him waggling his eyebrows at me and I could not help the slight smile that curved my lips. Zevran smiled, all teeth and exuberance. He handed me the bowl, somehow producing a spoon from the depths of his sleeve.

     "Eat." he ordered. "It will do you good."

     I eyed the stew and my stomach growled, even though my throat tightened. My appetite had all but vanished, along with even the thought of sleep. I shook my head to clear it and began to eat, enjoying, as Zevran had mentioned, the stew's edibility. Despite the many of great talent Salem had gathered to her, a good cook was not to be found.

     _Not even Wynne._

     I smiled at the memory of her one night attempting to feed the camp. The pot had exploded when the mage had mistaken a vial of her lyrium for seasoning salt. After that, the mage had made no further attempt at cookery. This stew was vastly different, the meat seasoned perfectly, the vegetables crisp and bursting with flavor. I began to eat with more zest, realizing how empty and tired I was from improper nutrition alone.

     "Now that is what I like to see." Zevran grinned and sat beside me, looking up at the clear skies of Denerim.

     Somewhere, off in the distance, black smoke rose from the burning of the darkspawn bodies and the other casualties of war. Time seemed to have frozen in the city, even as citizens cleaned the rubble of what had been their homes and businesses. There was an overpowering sense of disbelief, a universally shared fugue state.

     _It is as though we are all waking up from a terrible nightmare. Everyone here has lost someone...or something...dearly valued. But while their dreams are ended and their consequences laid bare in the waking light of day...my nightmare continues._

     "I do not like this face on you." Zevran broke the silence, turning from the sight of the sky. "We are too alike, you and I, given to the joys and the beauty of life! I hate to see you suffering and sorrowful. Wynne tells me you've hardly slept these last five days. You need to rest, my dear. Let your wounds heal."

     I shook my head and finished eating, setting aside the bowl with a frown. "My injuries trouble me very little." I stared at the ground, my eyes still too sensitive to the bright light of the sun. "Betwixt Wynne's consistent chiding and her magic, I am quite well mended."

     "You are fraying at the seams." Zevran drew my attention towards him, forcing me to look into his smoldering eyes.

     There were new, slight scars scattered across his cheeks, and an angry red line that started at the middle of his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt. None of us had emerged from this conflict unscathed.

      "I am managing things in my own way." I told him, slightly offended by his brusque assessment of me.

     _He does not know. None of them do. The healers have only allowed my presence in Salem's sickroom because Wynne ordered them to do so. None of the others have seen her, pale and lifeless, barely breathing...constantly in pain from the spells being used to keep her soul tethered to her body. It would break the heart of a monster._

     Zevran took in my serious expression and pursed his lips...before he burst out in laughter that echoed across the cracked stone and hurt my ears.

     "You are managing things in _Salem's_ way!" he exclaimed, sobering as he saw my confusion. "Leliana, think. You are running yourself ragged. You do not sleep, you do not eat; you go about with pursed lips and fiery eyes. And instead of coming to those who would attempt to ease your troubles, you are caging yourself in a room that inflicts you with pain."

     _Maker's blood,_ my heart tightened and my breath hitched. _He is right. I have locked myself away from everyone, closing off my heart, closing off my mind, so consumed in my fears that I have ignored those who would...help me. All of those things which I railed against in Salem...I have become them. How many times did I beg her to speak and she kept silent? How many times did I entreat for her to rest, to close her eyes, and she steadfastly refused?_

     "You are not wrong." I admitted, shaking my head as I re-entered a kinder reality. "I am...so worried, Zevran. Five days and she has not stirred. The healers are amazed that she has survived this long. I have tried to rest, but every time I close my eyes, I hear her voice in pain. I dream of her death."

     "Death is nothing to fear, songstress." Zevran comforted me, wrapping his arm about my trembling shoulders.

     I pulled away from him and folded my spirit into itself, trying to create a shield against the fears and doubts that had gnawed at my mind with every waking hour.

     "I was prepared," I whispered, "ready and willing to tell her farewell, to set free the beautiful hopes and dreams that we had crafted together against all odds. Zevran...heavens, hells, and angels, Zevran, I have watched her die once before. But this...this endless, agonizing _torture_...I do not know how much longer I can bear to watch her suffer before I fall completely to shards."

     "Those who do not know Death as we do say it is certain." Zevran spoke, no theatre in his voice, no jesting or seductive undertones. "But she is capricious, fickle, and utterly unpredictable. Death does not honor the warrior or judge the guilty of her own volition."

     "You have eluded her for so long." I could not resist a smile at his poetic, somber tone. "You speak of her as though you are lovers."

     "She has remained more faithfully at my side than any woman." Zevran grinned. "During my work with the Crows, there were contracts that came to us, multiple times. The same name, over and over as the months passed. We called them immortal, for every assassin proclaimed success, and yet these stubborn few insisted on living."

     "How very curious." I fixed my vision back on Fort Drakon, the door that would lead to the room where Salem lay, clinging to life.

     "I tell you this, Leliana, because I studied these few anomalies, these men and women who would not be killed." Zevran continued. "I delved into their character, followed their footsteps, learned their ways, all the better to succeed where others had failed."

     "And?" I asked, beginning to feel an itch that did not plague my skin, but my soul.

     _I need to go back. I **have** to be with her...what if the worst should happen?_

     "Salem is immortal." he smiled, hope shining out from his radiant eyes. 'no matter what, she will survive. I would lay a wager that she will surpass the warden's optimistic thirty years. So do not fret, my dear, and keep care of yourself, so that she has no worry for you when she wakes."

     _Another **when.** He said... **when.** As though it is a guarantee. As though, through sheer force of belief, what we desire will come to pass. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps it is as simple as that. _

     "Thank you, Zevran." I whispered, tears staining my voice.

     I wrapped my arms around him in a fierce, but brief, embrace. I still did not trust his wandering, philandering hands. I rose from the bench and walked towards the door, a slight limp and the ache in my chest the only remnants of the darkspawn bolts that had pierced my body.

     I opened the door and stumbled as Wynne nearly barreled me over. Her eyes were bright and wet and my heart thudded in my chest. We righted ourselves and her hand reached out for mine, taking it and holding it, firm.

     _No. Maker, please, no. Not after...not now...she cannot be..._

     "Leliana," Wynne sounded even more exhausted than I, "I have good news."


	29. Waking but to Dream Again

**Salem**

     "Mistress Wynne, come quickly!" a foreign voice rang in my ears, discordant, noxious, far away.

     Realization came too slow. I could hear the sounds of footfalls on stone floors, the gentle clanking of glass vials, and the low murmurs of several people...none whose cadence and accents I recognized. I could hear my own breathing, hitched, shallow, painful...something was wrong, and I did not know what it was. I did not know why every single sound was muddled and distorted.

     "What is it?" through the muffled din, I caught a recognized tone and a familiar question.

     "I think...I think her eyes are opening." the stranger spoke, an eagerness in his voice that I did not understand.

     "Allow me..." Wynne said no more, but I heard shifting, movement, murmured whispers.

     I flinched and stopped breathing at the feel of skin against my own, a warm hand resting on my cheek. It took a moment before I smelled lavender and elfroot, and knew then that the weathered skin against my own belonged to the hand of the senior enchanter. Her familiar touch and familiar scent calmed me and I was able to breathe again.

     "Salem." Wynne spoke. "Salem, child, can you hear me?"

     I pulled my eyelids open fully, hissing at the glare of the sun through the window. The pain shot through my eyes, radiating out from the back of my skull and pounding between my temples.

     "Elfric, pull the shades please." Wynne ordered and the light mercifully dimmed. "Salem," the senior enchanter's eyes probed my own, "can you hear me? Blink once if you can."

     Obedient, I closed my eyes, worried at the strain that I could see tightening the corners of her eyes and lips. Dark circles hovered beneath watery blue eyes that held too much worry for a woman her age. I opened my eyes again and Wynne's face beamed, losing the slightest bit of the anxiety.

     "Here, child." she pressed a glass to my lips. "Drink this, slowly."

     Water, sweetened with honey, filled my mouth. I took slow, deliberate sips, relishing the cool water flowing down my parched, swollen throat. The honey coated my mouth, erasing the desert-dry sensation I had awakened with. My eyes darted about as I drank, as I attempted to gain some understanding of _what had happened._

     _Soft...warm. Mattress. Blankets. Dear Maker, what has transpired? How long have I been sleeping? I can hear, but scarcely...it seems as though everyone is speaking from a great distance. My right leg feels heavy; my chest aches; everything is hazy and blurred and I feel numb and in agony at the same time._

     "Salem, can you speak?" Wynne set the glass aside on a table and dried the streams of water that had slipped from my mouth and run down my neck.

     "Think..." I tested my voice, finding it raw, whispery, and ragged, "...so."

     "Maker be praised." she pressed her hand to my forehead and closed her eyes. "No fever. Most excellent. Do not try to move, my dear. I will return in a moment."

     "Wynne, what..." I needed her to tell me. I needed to know what was going on.

     "Be patient." she interrupted. "There will be time for every question to be answered, every fear allayed. For now, be at  peace. The archdemon is vanquished, Denerim saved, and you are alive. Content yourself with that, for the moment."

     She exited the room and I closed my eyes as pain hammered harder at the back of them. I relaxed against the pillows, relishing their softness, a nice change from the cold stone of Fort Drakon, where I last remembered laying. I also remembered a sword in my hands, a burst of hot, acidic blood spraying my chest as I brought the blade down with the last of my strength. I remembered...the end of the war. The end of the Blight.

     _It's done,_ a slight smile washed over my face. _Finished. The archdemon is dead and I am alive. Thank you, Morrigan...and...thank you, my Maker, for giving me this victory and sending me the assurance...allowing me to come back...knowing that I have not failed you._

     More dim sound echoed through the room and I heard voices, though I could not make out the words. I felt pressure on my hand, though little else...until I inhaled the familiar scent of Andraste's Grace. Comfort and peace washed over me.

     "Salem." my name...in _her_ voice. All that mattered.

     My eyes flared open and I turned my head, wincing as pain flared up and down my spine and insisted on beating against my temples. I did not care. I would never care about any physical discomfort again. Leliana's eyes fell on mine and they filled with tears even though her smile held the radiance of the sun. A timeless moment stretched between us, a realization that, for us, a future _might_ exist. That we had survived the final battle and now we were here, battered, bruised, but alive. Alive, and together.

     "Welcome back, my love." she whispered, lifting my hand against her cheek, cradling it close to her.

     I saw then the crimson-stained bandages that covered my hand and arm. The sight made me aware of the pain, and my arm began burning, but I did not care. I would not care. Not any longer.

     "You're...so beautiful." I whispered the first words that came to mind, even though questions burned in the back of my throat, begging to be asked. "Love you...so much."

     More tears filled her eyes and her lips trembled. Wynne knelt beside her and my bard rested her head on the mage's shoulder, seeking comfort from her that I was too injured to provide. That knowledge hurt me, but I remembered my mother's words. I was but human. I had brought down a god. It would be too much to expect to escape from such a conflict unscathed.

     "You had us quite worried, my dear." Wynne informed me. "The Blight ended five days ago and you were..." she paused, sniffing, gathering her composure. Leliana's lips trembled. "...you were terribly injured. We have been waiting and praying for you to awaken...there were times we feared the worst."

     "I...apologize." I tried to smile.

     "Oh, hush." Leliana lifted her head from Wynne's shoulders and brushed tears from her eyes with shaking fingers.

     _She looks beyond the point of exhaustion. Maker's breath, but I am an inconvenience. However, I know now that I shall have time to remedy that. I promise you, dear heart, I will be able to make up for these days of worry._

     "You are here now; that is all that matters." Leliana placed a brief kiss on my bandaged hand. "Are you in pain, my love?"

     "Yes." I felt too tired to lie, and the battle was over.

     No longer did I feel the need to grit my teeth and press forward. For now, Ferelden was out of danger. I could rest, at last. I could admit that I hurt, at last.

     "I can remedy that, now that it is safe to do so." Wynne patted Leliana on the shoulder and rose to her feet, walking to a corner of the room that I could not see.

     Leliana remained silent, as though she were afraid to speak. Her lips trembled and her fingers roved over the bandaging on my hand as she bit her lip, as though she believed she might wound me further with a breath. Her ocean blue eyes were filled with ghosts and torment, the skin beneath them appeared bruised and blackened. She looked so pale...as though she had not seen the sun in years.

     "Are you...all right?" I whispered the question dearest to my heart.

     "Better now." she gave me the reply I had given her atop Fort Drakon.

     "Is everything...did everyone..." I could not post the question, could not ask if the men and women I had grown to love were dead...or worse.

     "Everyone is alive." she smiled, tracing my cheek with her fingertips. "Alistair's shield arm was broken when he took on an ogre singlehandedly. You would be proud of him, Salem. He held the gates, standing strong until the Dalish and the dwarves arrived to break the siege."

     "They came." relief flooded through me.

     _All of those months, the agonizing decisions and compromising...in the end, was worth it. Our allies came to our aid. Thank the Maker. Perhaps, in the preservation of Ferelden, old grievances can be laid to rest._

     "Yes, my love. You succeeded." she leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on my forehead. "You have earned a long rest."

     _Not yet. Not every mission is complete. One thing more, Leliana. One thing more._

     "Alistair...king?"

     She laughed and it was all the music I would ever need. "The poor man is yelling at nobles day and night. He says he will not wear the crown until you can stand beside him at his coronation. He is being quite the stubborn arse about it. Eamon is beside himself."

     I smiled at that. "Leliana...why...why is my standing something we must...wait for?"

     Her face darkened and I felt guilty for asking the question. "Your leg was badly broken, Salem." she answered. "Your breastbone was cracked and your skull fractured. You've been so ill...the mages have been able to do very little for you..." she began to weep once more and I wanted nothing but to take her in my arms.

     "Head injury?" I asked, and she nodded. "Perhaps, now, I can remain...in my right mind." I teased, attempting to bring a smile to her face and banish her tears.

     "You insouciant wretch." she muttered, brushing tears away once more. "If inappropriate, ill-timed humor was a weapon, you might have vanquished the archdemon sooner.'

     "Leliana..."

     "No, love." she stroked her fingers through my hair as Wynne rejoined us, bearing a small glass vial filled with a clear, sweet-smelling syrup. "You need to rest now. All will be well, and there will be time."

     _...time to grieve for the things we have lost. Time to hold each other and rest, away from turmoil and constant battle. Time to mend our spirits and souls. There will, at last, be time. Thank the Maker._

     "Drink this." Wynne held the vial to my lips.

     I hesitated, not wanting to lose more time, wanting to endure the pain so that I could be with my friends, with the woman I loved. Still, pain raged at me behind the veneer of consciousness, threatening to burst forward and drown me.

     Leliana's hand replaced Wynne's on the vial, and her other hand soothed my furrowed brow. "There is no need to be so brave, Salem." Leliana whispered, comforting. "Let us ease your pain so that your injuries can be repaired in earnest. The world is waiting for you. _I_ am waiting for you, and I do not wish to see you suffering."

     "All right." I acquiesced, parting my lips, drinking the sweet-smelling but bitter tasting poppy syrup, knowing that, soon, it would carry me to oblivion.

     I felt the brush of Leliana's lips across mine. "Dream sweetly, Salem." Leliana whispered. "I love you."

     I did not think of the pain that would come when the mages used their healing magic. I did not focus on the dull throbbing between my temples. Instead, I fixed my eyes on Leliana, keeping my eyes and heart on her as sleep conquered me without resistance.


	30. Sharp and Subtle Fears

**Leliana**

     "Ugh! I'm no bloody good at this!"

     I dodged as an elegant china vase smashed against the wall. It exploded into shards and a besogged mess of flowers tumbled to the floor in disarray. I placed my hand against my mouth, stifling a chuckle as I watched blood drain from the face of the future king.

     "Oh, Maker's breath!" Alistair slammed his palm against his forehead, staring at the destroyed ruin of the vase. "That belonged to the Revered Mother of Denerim's Chantry. Now I am going to be forced to draft an apology note and...and use fancy words like...remunerations...ugh."

     I struggled to bite back my laughter as I came to stand beside him. I rested my hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention from the chips of costly porcelain on the floor. "Calm down, your majesty." I could not help teasing him. "The Revered Mother has deep understanding of the transience of all things. I am sure that this knowledge extends to the life-expectancy of vases."

     He sagged beneath my touch for the briefest of moments, allowing me to comfort him...but that was short-lived as he began plucking at the embroidery on his shirt.

     "I...just...damn this. _Damn this to bloody hell!_ Do I want streamers or ribbons, flags or banners? Leliana, what is the _fucking_ difference!?"

     "Well..."

     "And colors!" he interrupted, the airing of his grievances not quite complete. "Will you be changing the royal standard, your majesty? Blue and gold, or blue and silver? Crimson and silver, or violet and gold? I...I don't know what they mean! I do not know what any of this means!  just..."

     He sat down on one of the benches and buried his head in his hand. His left arm still remained bound in a sling, as the kind-hearted warden had refused the mage's aid after the battle, claiming that there were those who were far more injured than he. His good nature, kindness, and the tales of his heroism at the gates had done wonders in making him worthy in the eyes of his people. Even the nobles who had voted against Alistair and Salem at the Landsmeet had come forward, offering their support, realizing that the warden-king truly did have the best interests of the people at heart.

     _You will be every inch a king, once a few years have passed._ I smiled down at him, realizing the truth. _Salem saw the nobility in you from the very first, and took a great many steps to bring it out in you, pushing you past limits, straining the boundaries of your mind and body._

     "I thought you might could help me make sense of this." he looked up, smiling the same foppish grin he had always given. "I hope I did not pull you away from anything important."

     It was my turn to hide my face in shame. "I am afraid I am very little use to anyone these last few days. I am glad to be of help wherever I may...even though it appears that my expertise in the planning and execution of royal affairs could not save the poor vase."

     Alistair chuckled and leaned back against the bench. "I am fairly certain that the vase was doomed from the outset of this venture." he continued plucking at the embroidery on his tunic. "Just like the wardens were doomed until...Maker..." he scrubbed his face with his hand, "...I wish..."

     He trailed off, but I knew the words that lay on the tip of his tongue. They were the same words ringing through my mind...through the mind of every soul that had struggled against the Blight for over a year.

     _I wish Salem were here. Somehow, she could make all of this vanish. The confusion, the chaos...her mere presence could end it._

     "I know." I sat down beside him and gazed at the haphazard trappings that lined the walls of Fort Drakon's throne room.

     Banners were set askew on the dais, three or four different chairs placed at awkward angles, all in various states of upholstery and décor. Scrolls and papers were everywhere, tossed carelessly about on the floor. We were surrounded by chaos personified...evidenced in this throne room as it was in our hearts. And the one person who could make it better, who could make the clamor dim and cut a swath of calm through the frenzy could not be with us.

     "How is she?" Alistair asked. "Any better?"

     "She seems to be." I avoided the question.

     In truth, since she had awakened, I had discovered more and more excuses to place distance between us. At first there were no protests, for Wynne preferred me out of the way when the more intensive healing began...I did not like to admit that I preferred to be elsewhere myself. Everywhere else in the city, the people were rebuilding. I had seen those who had been gravely injured in the final battle standing once again, walking the streets, praising the Maker for their lives. For my warden, it was not so. She still lay in lingering agony, attempting to heal, to fight through the torture of healing magic in order to get to her feet.

     My heart threatened to burst in my chest whenever I walked through that door. When I looked into my lover's blue eyes and saw the pain dwelling there, I also saw her realization that she might never be free of it. Knowing that she believed such a thing cut me to the core...for I had never been able to ease the pain of her body. I could not be who or what she needed...and thus I found more reasons not to sit beside her, not to exchange words and looks, not to touch her with meaning. Lately, there had been questions hovering in Wynne's eyes. Questions of why...why the woman who had fought so hard to live...for me...could not now expect me to remain beside her.

     _Why have I stayed away?_ I wondered as I watched Alistair's brows furrow. _Why have I begun to ignore her now...after the end...when all things are being set aright. When this land and our bodies can finally be healed and our long-awaited rest granted...why do I hide?_

     "I am running away again." I spoke, not realizing that I had voice my thoughts aloud until the echo of my words bounded back from the stone.

     "What?" Alistair turned to me, such care and compassion in his eyes.

     It reminded me of Salem...my heart began to break for the thousandth time. "It is...what I have always done." I found myself confessing. "Alistair, I have run from everything in my life. I fled Cecile's care when Marjolaine slithered in to my existence; I felt to the Chantry after Marjolaine's betrayal. When I received my vision, I ran, even from the Chantry...into Salem's arms, and I thought that there, I would be content to stay."

     "And...you are no longer content?" Alistair asked, wide-eyed, disbelieving.

     "I am afraid." my voice trembled as I realized the truth and let it be spoken aloud. "Afraid that without the constant battle, the pressures of this life we have endured, since the beginning, that..."

     "That there will be no reason for her to need you at her side? That with nothing forcing you together, all bonds will be broken?" Alistair asked, surprising me again with his understanding of my heart.

     _As he did in the Frostback mountains. But then, I was too stubborn and in pain to listen to his wisdom. Maker, give me clearer vision. Let me understand the reason for my fears. Do not let them rule me as they have for my entire life._

     "Yes." I whispered. "I know it is petty of me to think such things...to believe such desperate things of her heart. But...but I have never...never truly been loved. Always used and discarded. Always set before a trap. And I am quite the escapist, Alistair. I have learned to run before the guillotine falls. I have learned to sever myself from the source of pain before the wound is even inflicted."

     _Please say something,_ I looked into his eyes, beseeching him, praying for a kind voice to assuage my fears. _Say something, anything, and I will listen. The nightingale is afraid...her heart is pounding, wings beating against her body, screaming that I must take flight. To stand here is...I am fighting against my own nature._

     "I...I have nothing to say." Alistair surveyed the room around us, the cacophony and disarray of our surroundings. "Only that...I share a similar fear. I thought nothing could terrify me as much as the archdemon. The months of fighting...the nightmares. I thought I could not be any more afraid, until now. Until I look at this catastrophe, and realize that it's _mine_. I own it. I belong to it. Somehow, somehow, I have to _fix_ this!"

     He fell silent, and I wondered if we would simply rest here, sharing our fears and insecurities, seeing no way out, no light at the end of the long dark trial.

     "And?" I asked.

     "And I know that she'll help me." Alistair smiled, his shoulders seeming to broaden with confidence. "Salem will not wear the crown, though the Maker knows she should, but on that day, when I have to stand up in front of all these _people_ who are _expecting_ things from me, I will look at her and _know_ that I am capable."

     "She has always inspired such faith." I shook my head. "Heavens, hells, and angels, Salem did the impossible..."

     "Then let that anchor you and calm you." Alistair scooped up a sheaf of paper from the floor and stared at it before tossing it away again. "It's very strange, Leliana. The very thing that can assuage your fear is the one thing that you fear the most."

     "I shouldn't be afraid of her." I stared down at the ground. "I know this, and it wounds me even as I cannot deny the emotion."

     "Don't deny it." a new voice rang from the doorway and Alistair and I turned our heads, stunned.

     Salem leaned against the threshold, standing under her own power. She was still several shades to pale, her frame gaunt from the days she had lain unconscious and the pain making her unable to keep down food. She carried herself with the fragile grace of the invalid, the minor cuts on her face still standing out in stark relief against her skin.

     "I...I should go." Alistair ducked out of the room and my heart began to pound.

     "Salem..." I wanted to go forward, but my body betrayed me and I took a step backwards instead. "How much...how much did you hear?"

     "Enough."


	31. A Knife in My Heart

**Salem**

     Fear. It screamed at me, shining from eyes the color of the ocean. Eyes ever-filled with mirth and devilry, mischief and humor...kindness and compassion unmeasured. A deep blue in which I could drown...in which I had indeed lost my life, and now stood to lose it again. My body shrieked, fighting to stand against the staggering pain, remnants of the spells that had mended me. My spirit wailed in the wake of what I had just heard...that the one I loved was afraid of me...that the one for whom I had fought so hard was struggling against her own nature in order to stay at my side.

     Leliana stepped back, even though we were already separated. "Salem..." she spoke, barely above a whisper. "How much...how much did you hear?"

     _Even if I had heard nothing, I could still translate the fear glittering in your gaze. I do not need something so fragile as the spoken word to convey your terror._

     "Enough." my voice cut through the air like a whip, harsher than I intended.

     "I...I didn't mean..." she stammered, losing her bardic control, her eloquence, as she always had when faced with me.

     I had been amused by her speechlessness at first; I had fallen in love with it later, but now...now I found myself _furious._

     _I did **everything** I could for you! I bled and died and continued forward **only because you were at my side!** Only because I had the promise of you at the end of this torture! And now I find that this promise might also be **denied!** No. **No. NO!**_    

     "You did not mean for me to hear that?" I asked, limping into the room. "you did not mean for me to know your true feelings? You, who have constantly berated me about closing off my soul, who have urged me time and time again to open my heart and my self...how very hypocritical of you, Leliana."

     She gasped at the words as they left my lips, as she felt the bitter edge of them slice against her. "What do you want from me, Salem?" she asked, remaining motionless, uncertain of whether to advance or flee.

     "From you?" I asked, lifting my hands in supplication...in desperation. "Nothing, now. The Blight is over and you are free from your vision...why are you even here?"

     Anger crackled in her blue-sky eyes. "Do not be flippant with me, Salem Cousland." she hissed, coming closer, daring to confront me. "You know very well why I am here."

     "Against your will, it would seem." I walked towards her, limping as my injured leg protesting the movement. "Tell me why." I demanded. "You owe me nothing and I ask so very, very little, Leliana. I ask that you _tell me why!"_

     "I..."

     "I would say that it might be the scars." I sliced the edges off her words, lost in my bitterness, awash in my fear that I would lose her yet again. And that somehow, this time, she would never return. "For you have ever been surrounded by paragons of beauty. I might say it was my eyes that scream of death, because they looked beyond the chasm of hell and into eternity. But you have met them without hesitation these last weeks. So, why now, now after I am alive, after our mission is done, do you _dare_ speak of _fear!?"_

     "Because I am human!" she cried, tears lining those gorgeous eyes, turning them into a restless ocean that tossed my soul about on its waves. "Because I look before I place my feet! I run before the danger presents itself and find a way around it because I am not strong enough to challenge it head on! Because. I. Am. _Not. **You!"**_

     _I am not human...she has said this to me before. She has begged me to show the vaguest bit of humanity, to cease placing the needs of others above my own. Perhaps she was right. This mission is finished. The Blight is ended. There is nothing to tie us together any longer. And I have often thought...she deserves a life better than the one I could grant her. A Grey Warden from a war-torn country. My noble title is but a nicety now...I can hold it no longer. What sort of future could I provide? None...therefore I must let her make her choice. She has made it twice before. Once, I stopped her, and once, she stopped herself. Three times for surety...Maker, please, spare me this pain. Spare me this agony...I do not know if I can live without her._

     "Salem," her hand reached out, shaking. Her voice had gentled, but with one look I still felt the fear inside of her...and it broke me. "Salem, speak to me. Say something, please."

     I pinched the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes, unwilling to shed tears. I had foresworn them before, and she had brought them back, returning them to me as a gift. No more. My life seemed destined to be ever-filled with pain...I would not let that break me. I would let nothing break me again. Not even the sweetness of love.

     "I went through hell, Leliana." her name tasted like salt on my tongue, like ash and faded dreams. "I went through hell for you...for _us_. I compromised my soul and asked another that I love to do the same so that I might come back to you."

     "Salem..."

     "Hear me out." I turned my eyes to hers and she flinched away from them for the first time in so long. "I _want_ nothing from you. I have longed for you, and I have needed you, and I have found my hands empty so many times that I no longer _want_. You desire for me to show my humanity? Hear this, Leliana. And listen _well._ This is _your_ fault. _You_ are to blame."

     Her face went white and the tears of grief in her eyes blurred to those of pain. "You do not mean that." she begged, praying for me to retract my words, to be the gentle, _inhuman_ soul that I had been, that she had known and loved...that would never cause her harm or attempt to wound her spirit with purpose.

     "I mean every word." I walked closer to her and took her hands in mine, feeling her skin against me like broiled desert sand. "I am beyond exhausted, Leliana. I've given too much to have it all flung back in my face with as pathetic an excuse as _fear._ So please, break my heart entirely or simply leave it cracked, but do not tempt me with something I will never have."

     "Salem, I don't want this." she sobbed. "Not again. I cannot live through this again."

     "Then don't." I relinquished her hands and turned on my heel, gritting my teeth through the pain of the movement. "Make your decision, Leliana, and do not think of me. I have lost everything once already. I can rebuild again."

     "Salem." she reached out for me and I pulled away, wanting none of it. None of her touch, none of her words, none of anything she could offer if it were tainted by her fear. "Salem...do you love me?"

     _Do I love you. Do **I** love you?_

     "I am alive, Leliana." I gestured to myself. "Standing after twelve days of intense healing to grievous injuries. You have seen me be healed...you have witnessed the magnitude of that pain. I had one reason to live, and here I stand, before _you_."

     "Salem, I am sorry..."

     "I love you, Leliana. You have never needed to apologize for anything. But I am finished with guilt. This," I hung my head and sighed, "this is not what I wanted. Not at all. But I am blameless here. Whatever happens is on your head."

     I walked away from her.

     "Salem!" she shrieked my name and the grief in her voice scorched the very edges of my heart. "Salem, please!"

     I turned to her, wanting to run into her arms, embrace her, smother her with kisses. But not like this. Not if she still felt conflicted. Not if she was afraid.

     "Make your decision, dear heart. For both our sakes."

     "Salem, I love you." she fell to her knees in the wrecked throne room and I hardened the heart that longed to break, to forgive her fear and press forward.

     But I could not let her confession stand. I could not give her my heart, knowing that she might flee the gift. I had risked too much; I had thought she and I fought for the same goal, for the same eventual end. But perhaps she did not wish for that end any longer. Perhaps she wished to return to her freedom, to live a life apart from the pain I had put her through and the memories of it. Perhaps she could not endure the touch of my scarred body...for it would be too painful to remember the times that had painted my skin with these flaws.

      "If you fear me as well," I asked, "how can I know that you speak true?"


	32. The Mute that Beg

**Leliana**

     _Hear this, Leliana. And listen **well.** This is **your** fault. **You** are to blame. _

     The thoughts resonated through my mind as I stared at the empty, open doorway. Her shadow haunted it; the remnants of her wrath crackled around the doorposts and reached out, lashing me with crueler barbs than those attached to the whips that had flayed my skin. Salem...a woman who had spoken in righteous indignation, but never in anger. Who was more ready to strike out at the powerful that enslaved than to use her power to break those beneath her. Something had changed. Something in her had broken, and I worried that it had been my hands that had done the damage.

     I got to my feet and staggered away in a blind haze. I did not see the piles of rubble scattered throughout the city, nor answer the voices that hailed me with words of praise or thanks. They meant nothing. Nothing meant anything. The world had been drained of color and I felt cold.

     _I do not know what to do. I have never stood here before. She has always been so kind, so understanding, so gentle that I thought she might break me with the breath of a whisper. But to hear those words, to hear the unadulterated truth ringing from them, to see the anger flashing in her beautiful eyes...eyes that promised me eternity. Eyes that screamed of love even when marred by dead. Is it any wonder that I fear you, Salem? You, who can shatter me so easily...is it any wonder that I fear you?_

     I looked to the sky, but even the sun had lost its radiance. Even the blue of the sky seemed turned to a dingy shade of grey, dirtied by the words spoken between two lovers who could never seem to meet on equal footing. We were never strong together. One's strength always compensated for the other's weakness. It was how we had been since the beginning. There might now be a chance to see that change...but I was afraid.

     _How can we find balance? It seems we can never love each other when one is not bleeding, or haunted, or tortured. Our words turn to anger and accusation. Our hopes turn to dust and filter through our grasping fingers. What can I do? I have never...I have never been here before._

     Tears began to slip from my eyes and I let them fall, not caring about their clarity, that they spoke a truth my waking mind trembled to realize. She had never walked away from me before...not without coming back. But she would not seek me out again, I had felt that with the surety of an iron brand against my skin. Our fate was in my hands...and I had never held such a fragile thing. Always, _always_ , I had been the one who was hurt, the one who ran from that pain, the one who had learned to save myself from the eventuality of betrayal and its anguish.

     _I have said it a thousand times if once at all. **I have never been loved.** Not until... **now.** And now it is my insecurities that threaten to tear us apart. It is my weakness and my proclivity for self-preservation that has set this between us. Maker, _I rested against a wall and pinched the bridge of my nose, _I did not want for this to happen. All I wished to see was her smile, to take her in my arms and feel the strength of a promise that was mine, and mine alone. Her heart. Her devotion. Her love._

     _Why do I forsake what I most desire? Why do I fear the longings of my own heart? Why can I not be strong...why do I ask questions to which I know there are no pleasant answers?_

     I pushed myself away from the wall and walked through the main thoroughfare of Denerim, towards the gates that led to the war-torn land beyond. Away from the city streets that were my haven and into the wild, Salem's retreat...her place of peace.

     _As she was mine. A place of calm I could always turn to. Even when I beat at her chest and screamed at her that I hated her, she never turned me away. She held me close, as though I were precious, as though she would rather endure the pain of my touch for as long as I would allow rather than abandon me. Can I not do the same? Do I not possess that same manner of strength? Maker, help me. Send me a sign, a vision...anything. Please. I beg you._

     I looked up, foolish in expecting an answer to prayer. Nothing happened, and I hung my head, at last defeated. I continued walking, looking at the open gates before me, soldiers and women and men milling around, going about the desperate business of repairing the city and preparing for a coronation. A wind of new hope blew against all of us, invigorating the weary citizens, who could finally look forward to the process of rebuilding and the cessation of war.

     My warden had given them this gift. She had sacrificed more than any person would ever know. She had been through such pain and torment and none of them...none of them would ever realize that one woman...that she had...

     _...I went through hell, Leliana._

     I scraped the remnants of tears from my cheeks and stared at the open gates. I thought of how easy it would be to slip through them, into the wilds, away from all of this turmoil and these questions. I could bury them in the back of my mind, where they would never come forth from again. I could school myself into forgetting. I had done such things before, and this time would be no different...would it? I sighed, knowing that I could no longer lie to myself. This time _would_ be different.

     _It is time to cease hiding from your truths, silly nightingale,_ I chastised myself. _For you know this is the only time that you have fled from something beautiful. I fled the terror of Marjolaine and Val Royeaux's dungeons. I raced from the derision of the Chantry when my vision was mocked and whispers of mental instability and the chance of forced confinement wafted to my ears. I have always run from terrible things. But never from peace. Never from hope. Never from a dream that encompassed all the desires of my soul. Why do I fear what I most long for? Stability. Surety. Eternity._

     I took a step towards the gates and a mournful howl rocketed through me. I turned, recognizing the cry. Burrow raced to me, his tongue lolling out, his missing ear giving his face a darling, lopsided look. I did not kneelt o pet him, fearing that he would simply break my heart yet further. However, I could not bring myself to turn my back on the mabari.

     He placed his forepaw on my foot and whined, looking into my eyes with an animal sorrow that did not understand. The mabari loved me because his master loved me. And he did not understand...he did not understand why I would be cold to him. He did not understand why I would turn away. Why I would leave. At last, I relented, reaching down and scratching behind his missing ear. He chuffed and pressed his cold nose into my hand, licking it with zeal and affection. I offered him a sad smile and turned away, towards the gate.

     _I'm sorry._ I whispered in my thoughts.

     Burrow leapt in front of me, a pained whine leaving his throat. He splayed both forepaws out in front of him and put his weight on them, lifting his haunches into the air in an absurd sort of bow. I shook my head and took a step. He yipped at me, pushed up, then sat back on his haunches, lifting his forepaws into the air in front of him...a trick that I had taught him along the road...to beg.

     I stifled the laugh that crossed my lips. I had halfway expected to be stopped by one of my companions who understood both me _and_ Salem. Zevran, perhaps. Or Wynne. But no. A mute emissary came...a dumb beast who loved me, who had no knowledge of the words exchanged between me and his master, but who could sense that all was not well, and would do what he could to repair it.

     Burrow dropped to all fours and rolled onto his back, a silent plea for affection. I smiled and stooped down, scratching his belly, looking into the war-hound's eyes...those highly intelligent eyes.

     _It is little wonder that the Couslands chose the mabari for their symbol. Keen intellect and fierce, fierce loyalty. They defend what they love to the death...and if they cannot die for it...then they let it go. But Salem has given too much to simply let go...she can take no more blame, endure no more guilt. That is why this time, she set those burdens on my shoulders...where they have always belonged. She has been kinder than even I have seen, but all kindness has its limits and I...I am a fool to fault her for doing and being what I have asked her to be and do for so long. In her one moment of imperfect humanity...I ran? No...she deserves better. She deserves the same measure of love which she has given me._

     "I am tired of being afraid, Burrow." I whispered to the dog.

     He launched himself to his feet and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I smiled and wiped the dog's saliva from my skin, remembering the first time the great hound had growled at me before his master touched his head and changed his mind.

     "I do not know how to fix this." I confided to the one companion who would never share my words with another.

     He yipped and spun in a circle, drawing attention to himself, as though he were saying that he could help me somehow. He stopped and looked at me, cocking his head at an angle, as if asking me why I persisted in waiting.

     "But I have to try." I reached out and ruffled his ear. "Lead the way, boy. Take me to Salem."


	33. Human Wants and Wishes

**Salem**

     I hissed as I eased into the steaming water of Fort Drakon's mercifully undamaged baths. The water washed over my numerous healing injuries, stinging. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at anything, not the mosaics in the stone or the ripples of the water, the rising of the steam...the new scars that decorated my skin.

     _I want to wash it all away. The memory, the pain...the dirt, grime, and dead skin that has defined my being for so long. And yet, when I emerge from this water, it will follow me, clinging to me in the form of marks on my body that cannot be erased, that cannot be hidden. I will always know that I fought dragons and contended with gods. I will always have the memory of her love stamped in my skin._

_I shall never be free...nor will I ever languish in these chains, but find joy in them._

     I submersed myself completely and washed the dirt of battle and the sheen of sweat from my hair, realizing for the first time how long it had grown. In the many months of turmoil, the little things had been forgotten, pushed aside, tied back with leather and never brought to mind again.

     _So many things were new and pressing that the old was cast aside. And the Salem Cousland of old belonged to the land, to Ferelden, to Highever. She never thought of heartbreak and never dreamed of children and marital bliss. She concerned herself with her duty to her family and her country...she smiled often...laughed more._

_I miss her._

_But not as much as I miss Leliana in my life._

     I emerged from the water, released the breath I had been holding, and dragged my drenched hair away from my face.

     I did not want to admit it to myself, to subvert my anger, to come down from my furious, high handed perch, but I had too. I understood her fear. Maker's breath, I understood. At the edge of all things new, with no impending doom or disaster to confront. The ability to sleep without waking in the night clutching a blade. These things were new...a gift that she had never been given. And who was I to her, away from all of that? A stranger. I felt as a stranger to myself as well.

     We were not soft creatures, she and I. We did not know how to give ourselves over to the peaceful times in life, much less know who we were in those moments when action was not demanded, when blood had no need of being spilled. We were both attempting to find our feet in a new world, a process we were forced to begin separate from each other because of injuries from the last great fight.

     _I do not feel that my actions or my words were unjust...but I regret not telling her how much I truly do love her. I regret not being complete in my honesty. Maker, if she leaves again...I will not know what to do. My heart tells me to go after her, but I...I am always the one to do so. Perhaps, now, in this time, when I am at last allowed to drop the veneer of preternatural strength, my true desire comes to the forefront._

_I want a guarantee._

_I want to know._

_I want her to come for me..._

_...to prove that who I am is worthy of love._

     I relaxed against the side of the bath, letting the heat of the water soothe my skin and alleviate the aching in my muscles. I was so tired of pain. I wanted to remember what it was to exist without my nerves fraying at every moment, to walk without fearing the tearing open of skin, to forget the color of blood. I hung my head and loosened the muscles in my neck, savoring the quiet, the ability to be alone with my thoughts. To be at peace.

     _But something is missing. **Leliana** is missing. She should be **here.** We should **be** together. Since we fell into each other's lives, we both have changed. All things that glittered in the eyes of that young woman who once was Salem Cousland...they have lost their blow. I no longer feel that way. _

_I am no longer that person._

_I cannot return to who I was before._

     I massaged my temples as my head began to pound. It seemed I would never be finished with the headache that had haunted me since the moment Duncan had dragged me, white-faced and mute, out of Highever. The life that had been mine since that day had been fraught with peril, choked with nightmares, painted in blood. But there had been moments...such beautiful moments. Moments that I would relive the entirety of that hell to experience once again.

     _Moments with her, spent at her side, in her arms, learning to love again. Learning how to strip away the armor of soul and spirit and lay it all into another person's hands. She taught me how to smile again. She taught me how to laugh._

     I finally opened my eyes and looked at the mirrored tiles along the edges of the bath, staring at my reflection inside of them. My skin was pale; a small assortment of scabbed-over cuts decorated my face. The scar left by the dragon in the Frostback mountains stood out stark on my cheek, an almost beautiful disfiguring smear of indigo and scarlet.

     "Maker, I am lost." I whispered, running my finger along the scar, examining the face of a stranger.

     A woman that had been forced into a new existence with no say in the matter. A woman who had taken on the burdens of a thousand souls, who had carried the lives of countless on her shoulders. A woman who could not have done it alone. A woman who could not continue on if she were to be...alone.

     _But I am alone now...alone with a complete stranger in my reflection. I have no one to interpret the shadows that surround me. Yes, Leliana, you were right to be afraid. But this new face of me has lost all hesitation in the face of fear. I know what I desire...I desire you to love me as fiercely as I love you. To risk the pain. To brave the potential of heartbreak. I want proof. Proof that you have changed as much as I. That you no longer need to run...because the pain you flee is no longer present._

     I stared at my hand, at the spiderweb scars that had turned a deeper shade of blue; at the uneven skin-tone of my finger where a ring had once rested. It rested on her finger now. A promise that I had made in this city...and a promise that I had asked for.

     _That promise is still yours, if you want it. I will always love you, Leliana. I no longer know who I am without you. And I have no desire to recreate an identity._


	34. Another Fateful Promise

**Leliana**

     Burrow nudged the back of my knee with his wet nose, urging me to go forward. My hands were shaking badly and I did not know why. There had been no harsh words that brought me to this place. No unkind voice had heaped my shoulders with guilt. No reprimanding tone had forced me to stand where I stood. I knew that I had nothing to fear from Salem. She would never harm me, never raise her hand to me in anger...though the lives I had led filled me with the knowledge that I had given her many reasons to do so.

     In fact...I knew that if I had treated Marjolaine in such a manner. If I had screamed at her in a rage, if I had dared to _strike_ her...I would have been murdered long ago, found face down and nameless in a river with a knife in my back. I would have been dead...dead with no one to care, no one to remember, and no one to grieve. There was a difference in the way Salem had spoken to me, but I understood that difference. She had not been angry. She had been _hurt_. I had confessed in her hearing that I might once again flee even though, much like my warden, I had nothing left.

     _So why do I run,_ I questioned myself, taking the dangerous step forward. _Why do I run from everything into nothing? Why have I instilled this instinct so deeply into myself that I am willing to forsake the greatest gift I have ever been given?_

     I walked deeper into the dark hallways that Burrow had brought me to, though the mabari did not follow me. He stood guard at the entrance, knowing that this moment between me and his master was important, though unable to comprehend the depth of it. Still, he stood, warning others away. The hallway widened into a room with windows built high into the walls, allowing just enough light to filter in. The walls seemed to move as the reflection of the water was cast across them. Steam rose from the heat of the baths, providing a muggy comfort.

     I swallowed the lump in my throat, gazing at Salem. She had her back turned to me, and my gut clenched at the sight of the star-shaped scar on her right shoulder, where she had been struck by an arrow when she used herself as a living shield...my shield. One who would run did not deserve such a shield.

     _Oh, Salem...why am I even here? We have played out this exact scene so many times, twice with happy endings. How many times can we tempt tenuous fate?_

     My warden turned and I ducked into the shadows, not ready to announce my presence, still afraid, still trembling, still uncertain. I remained silent and watched, biting my tongue in shock. Tears filled my eyes as I took in what the archdemon had done to her. Her entire body looked like a canvas of bruises in various stages of healing. Her right leg was still bruised almost black, an ugly line of stitches across her shin, where the bone had been forced through the skin. The fearsome burn marks from the archdemon's blood were splashed all across her arms and shoulders, dripping down over and between her breasts, down to her stomach. These same scars flowed down her back, mingling with the scars caused by the whips of Loghain's torture, the claws of the high dragon in the mountains, and other wounds she had taken.

     _Her body is a monument to suffering,_ I thought as I saw that these wounds would leave highly noticeable scars, for the healing skin beneath the thick, ugly scabbing that she washed away, was the bright crimson of fresh blood. Intuition told me that it would always remain so.

     My stomach churned as I remembered watching her earn these wounds...watching as her skin was shredded to ribbons, screaming in my soul as she persisted in the fight that would have killed a lesser person. I watched a mortal woman slaughter a god...and survive.

_She survived because of a promise made. Not to the wardens, not to Ferelden, not even to the man who is her brother, and the man who will be king. She lived because she made a promise to **me...** a fickle bard who would sooner flee than stand her ground, who takes lives from a distance so that her hands are not stained. A woman who became who she was out of curiosity and ennui, and still repents at leisure. _

     Salem emerged from the water, toweled off, and began dressing herself with slow, cautious movements. I remembered the last time this had happened...when I was the one hurt, vulnerable, naked, under the scrutiny of her fathomless blue eyes. She had been _so_ kind. I begged the Maker for that manner of kindness now.

     _For the love of all that is holy, Leliana, say **something!**_

     "I know you are there." Salem spoke, and her voice echoed in the tiled room.

     Her words were gentle, insufferably kind, the Salem I had come to know through the months of turmoil and hell. There remained no trace of the fury I had heard early...no trace of the fury, but still of the sorrow. The sorrow that I had caused her because I was _afraid_. I felt like such a fool. Guilty, I emerged from the shadows, allowing her to see me in all of my non-existent glory. The confused child who hid behind the bard and the nightingale, masks made to please others. A mask that she had asked me to discard, that she had stripped away and laid bare...showing me the woman who lay behind the eloquent words, the songs, the stories, the blood. She had shown me a woman who was afraid of being loved...because to love could bring a harsher pain than torture.

     "It appears I've lost my touch." I smiled, muted, attempting humor in a dark situation...her strength, not mine.

     "No." Salem looked up at me and her eyes did not scorch. They calmed...even smiled. "You are beneath my skin, in my soul, beating in time with my own heart. I will always know when you are near."

     "Wha...what else do you know?" I asked, wanting her arms around me, her assurance, the peace she brought wherever she walked.

     "No, dear heart." she shook her head, and my heart dropped. "This cannot be about me. It cannot be about what I sense from you, or what I understand about you. You came to me, and I...I want nothing more than to give you what you desire, but I cannot. Not until I know. Why have you sought me out?"

     She sat down, wincing as she leaned back against the wall. I cringed as I followed the movements, questioning everything.

     _Emotion is a weakness,_ Marjolaine's ghost sang in my thoughts, _it will kill you if you let it. If you open your heart, there are those who will sunder it. Trust no one, Leliana. Event hose you hold close in the night. They have only themselves in mind._

     "Salem, can I...can I trust you?" I asked, hating myself as I saw the pain that crossed her features.

     "I would say yes," she replied, "but that answer is no longer mine to give. Trust is a thing that is given, Leliana, and if I do not deserve yours, in your mind, then no. You cannot trust me."

     "I...I want to." I admitted, feeling my throat clench as though I were being strangled. "I want to, and my heart knows that I can...but I am afraid."

     I examined her eyes; saw nothing but care and compassion. In them rested no sign of anger, no trace of wrath. Simply patience. And forgiveness. Beauty.

     "What are you afraid of, Leliana?" she asked.

     "Myself." I hung my head, unable to meet her gaze as I trusted her with the painful truth. "I have made...terrible choices, Salem. You know of them. I gave my heart to Marjolaine, and when that fell apart, I fled to the Chantry. Even then, I made the mistake of telling the Revered Mother in Lothering of my vision. The doubt, the scrutiny, the laughter...I ran. I ran, and I met you...and I saw in you all that I desired, and I love you, and I trust you...but for me that love and trust lasts only so long. So long until I am betrayed, or turned away...or discarded for another dream."

     My words ended on a sob and I drew my knees into my chest, resting my head on them, letting my shoulders shake with tears. I did not know what she would say to that, if she would regret entrusting her heart to someone so weak.

     "So why are you here?" Salem's voice was low, rough, uncultured...all things that my former self had despised. All things that she had made me adore.

     "Because I _do_ love you." I whispered, my words shaking like fragile autumn leaves. "Because I am tired of running. I am sick with myself, but I have nothing to prove that this time will be different. My faith...my faith is weak. Yes, Salem," I looked at her with fire in my eyes, "the woman who trusted a vision from a long-silent Maker admits that her faith is _weak_."

     "Your faith carried me through hell when I had none." Salem told me; her tone would take no arguments. "But we find strength that is not our own in the face of untold terror. Faith can waver. People can be weak. None of that is unforgivable. Tell me what you want, Leliana."

     My lips quivered as I met here eyes, saw the scars in them...scars that she wore for my sake. "I do not want to be afraid anymore." I confided in her. "I...I want to trust. I want this time to be different."

     "Why?" she asked, but this inquiry was not an accusation, not threatening, not painful. It simply was.

     "Because I wear your ring." I extended my hand and my voice did not shake. "And I have not been able to even _think_ of taking it off. And that...that is because I _want_ this promise...and the woman who gave it to me. Because I love you, Salem Cousland. So much so that I am afraid of that love."

     She got to her feet and walked to me, sitting again and leaning against the wall. Even wounded, even terribly bruised and in pain, she drew me into her arms, gentle as always, and brought my head to rest against her shoulder. Her lips pressed against my forehead in a tender kiss and I felt as though I were finally at home.

     "Give me time." she whispered. "Give me time, and I will assuage all of your fears."


	35. The Price of Paradise

**Salem**

     The damp heat of the rising steam washed over me as I cradled my lover in my arms. Even though every part of my body hurt, I felt that, at last, all was well in the world. I had thought, standing in the throne room, that I would lose all that I had fought for, and face the world alone. That all I had struggled to gain would leave. I would have let it happen...I knew that I would have. Because I loved her now more than I loved her in the Frostback mountains. I had let her walk away then.  I would have done so again.

     _But,_ I tangled my fingers in her fiery red tresses, _you came back. You came back for me, even after I spoke to you in anger, crushed your soul between my hands, and damaged you in a manner that I swore I never would._

     "Your thoughts stray to darkness." Leliana whispered against my neck, planting there the whisper of a kiss. "Will this ever change?"

     "I..." the question caught me off-guard. "...I do not know. Believe you me, I wish I had the answer. I wish I could tell you that the darkness is ended, that the nightmares are over, but I...I cannot make you any further promises, dear heart. I have already broken too many."

     Leliana sat up and brushed her hair away from her face. "You've broken no promise to me, Salem." she smiled and my heart began to burn as it had from the first.

     _You taught me what it was to love. You gave me strength when I had nothing left. You sacrificed yourself to a cause not your own, and witnessed untold horrors in doing so. Legends are written for heroes, Leliana, and you fit that exact description. You are all that is bright, beautiful, and beloved by the Maker._

     "I love you." I breathed, gathering her into my arms once again, uncaring about the pain, instead, locking my eyes with hers, drowning in the deepest blue.

     "But it is only in the legends that love defies fate." her tone took on a more serious note and I heaved a sigh, knowing that the dreaded revelation would have to be borne out.

     I loosened my grasp and let her go, waiting for the questions, the accusations...the harsh words when Leliana discovered what I had done. She moved across from me and set her face into a mask, visibly reining in her emotions.

     "How, Salem?" she asked. "I know what I saw in my vision. You confessed to me, in _tears_ , Riorda's revelation. There is no way...no way you could be here, living breathing...I should have buried you, and we both know this."

     "I...I made a deal." I answered, remembering my mother's words in the dream that had been not quite a dream.

     _It was **not** a sin. _

     "With what? With whom?" she pressed, and I remembered that her skill had been to draw the truth from unwilling lips, with torture if need be. The pained confusion in her eyes were more than torture to me.

     "With Morrigan." I admitted, watching a shadow fall across her face.

     Leliana had possessed no love for the witch; the two women had been at each other's throats from the day that my bard had joined us in Lothering. There had been moments, though, rare moments of human compassion and kindness between them. Not enough, though. Not enough that Leliana would forgive me for doing what I had done. It did not matter if I could forgive myself. It did not matter that intent of action forged the purity of the soul. What mattered is that the bonds holding me and the bard together had been strained to the fullest already. This might rend them asunder.

     "Go on." she spoke with careful control, denying me a glimpse of her emotional reaction.

     "She...she found a way." I explained. "A way to circumvent the magic of the Joining. She offered it to me, and I accepted."

     Leliana frowned. "This is more to this than you are saying." she pushed me farther towards the edge of revelation. "In the throne room, you told me that you compromised your soul and asked another that you loved to do the same. I know that someone was not me, Salem. Please. Tell me everything. Please let there be no secrets between us."

     I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, giving my fate into the Maker's hands and into my lover's kindness. She had come back...I had to trust her. Trust that she would not leave again, trust that she would not forgive me. But it had taken divine revelation for me to forgive myself. I could not ask such a thing to happen again.

     "Morrigan would not tell me the finer intricacies of the magic." I began. "It...it required what she called a different sort of Joining."

     Color drained from Leliana's face, leaving even her lips pale, and I knew that she understood the witch's innuendo. "Salem, you did not..." she trailed off, unable to think that I might have betrayed her in such a way.

     "No." I assured her. "Not me. Alistair. She...she told me their union would produce a child...a new soul, already imbued with the taint. A vessel that would harbor the archdemon's soul with no resistance...a place where it could live, not be extinguished along with the life of the warden who killed it. She saved the life of every warden who might have had to strike the final blow...and I don't know why."

     I watched realization settle into Leliana's eyes; watched her comprehend the gravity of what I had done. We sat in silence for a while and I felt the weight of a gathering storm press in around me.

     "Alistair...consented to this?" she asked, breaking the quiet.

     "Not...not at first. He had as many reservations as I did. I...I got down on my knees and I begged him." I admitted, remembering the tumultuous chaos of emotion that I had felt that night.

     I had been so torn, holding the woman I loved in my arms, dreaming of a future I had been told could not be. I had not wanted to die. I had not wanted to leave her behind to a life that had so often been cruel to her. But, more than that, I had wanted to live for myself. To see the world beyond the Blight, to help my brother rebuild our name and our lives...to live that precious thirty years with my lover and my family and my king.

     _I confessed to you that my death was inevitable, lost myself in your touch, gave myself completely over to you for the last time...then she came, speaking the words that I longed to hear...that there was a way for me to live. And a terrible price to pay for it. A great unknown let loose into the world, for good or ill._

     "Salem, Morri... _that woman_...is _evil._ " Leliana hissed. "And now you mean to tell me that she is free, traipsing about in the world with a child in her womb that harbors the soul of the creature that threatened to rip Thedas to _shreds!?"_

     "Yes."

     "Why?" Leliana got to her feet and stood over me, flinging the question with as much ferocity as she loosed her arrows. " _Why_ would you do _something like **that?**_ You have been _nothing_ but a paragon of shining light--you restored my faith in this world! Do you _realize_ the dangers that this could present? There is a child to be born that has _Theirin blood_ coursing through its veins! If Alistair has no heir, Morrigan could take Ferelden by storm, and have your beloved country ruled by a _fucking_ archdemon!"

     I began shaking, afraid all over again that in my decision to live, I would lose the reason for it. Afraid that she would leave me and that I would be alone with a life and nothing beautiful and purposeful to accomplish with it. Alone again, with nothing that I fought for.

     "I know." I acknowledged her all too real and valid fears. "I know."

     She leaned against the wall and covered her eyes with her hands. "Then why?" she demanded to know. "Why would you, with your level head and selfless heart, take _such_ a risk?"

     "In hopes that I would live, and gain the opportunity to repair the damage done." I sighed and rose, walking to Leliana, afraid to touch her once more. "Because I did not want to die. After everything I have given; after everything I have done for this land, I _selfishly_ did not want to _die_ for it. These months have _ruined_ me, Leliana. If ever I was beautiful, that is ended. If ever I hoped to live to old age, that too, is gone. The title that I would have possessed is forfeit to my brother, all lands and holdings as well. I have nothing. Nothing but you...and I _wanted_ that. _I_ wanted that _so much_ that I took leave of sanity."

     Leliana looked at me, weighing my words against what she knew of me. I had paid for many victories in flesh and blood. I had never sacrificed my principles, never veered from my path but _this_ one time. And I had done it for myself. I had been human...I had been what she always begged for me to be. She flung herself against my body and sobbed, clinging to me so tight I felt my bones would break. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close, pressing my lips against her hair.

     "I'm sorry." I apologized for the crime I had committed out of love. "Please, forgive me, Leliana. I wanted to live. For me. For you. To keep my promises. To see the beautiful future we could have."

     "I love you." she wept. "Maker's blood-soaked breathe, I love you, Salem. I forgive you...I forgive you this and any sin. Just hold me. Please, hold me."

     "I'm here." I comforted her, cradling her head against me, rocking her gently. "It will be all right. Somehow, I will make this right."

     "What...what if you can't?" the question broke my heart.

     "I will." I swore, looking over her head, to the yawning doorway...spiraling into the darkness of what the future might hold.


	36. Beauty Re-Defined

**Leliana**

     I could feel the look in Salem's eyes, even though I was not looking at them. They were cold, with a desperate fire behind them that feared its own heat, its own passion. They held a depth that feared to reach its bottom. Such a look could consume me, and had. It was her eyes that had told me that her love was real, that had convinced me that she did not play at words, or simply seek a warm body to pour her tension and frustration into during the Blight.

     I let her arms wrap around me, securing me inside the only fortress that had ever protected me without turning me from its gates. Yes, the actions she had taken to stand before me could have dire consequences. Yes, within the thirty years her warden lifespan allowed, Ferelden and Thedas both might be washed in another overpowering wave of evil. All of these things _could_ happen. It did not mean that such a future was certain.

     _Thus, it does not matter. She is alive and, try as I might to moralize, I remember that night in Redcliffe Castle...before the battle. After she succumbed to slumber, I cried myself to sleep. I have not done so since the first night Marjolaine showed me her brutality. And after that, I swore that nothing would bring me to so great a grief again. But I wept that night because I would lose her...I need not shed such tears now. As ever, she has torn down my defenses and shown me that I am strong enough without them._

 _What she did_ _**was** a desperate measure, and I am **happy** that she took it. I am glad that she is standing here, with me, alive. I am glad that I did not have to watch funerary flames consume her body. I do not care. I do not care that she made a deal with that vile witch. Morrigan's time of judgment will come, whether it is at Salem's hands or another's. _

     "Well," Salem spoke and a smile lay in her voice, "somehow I imagined this going much worse."

     I laughed through the tears that had begun to form in my eyes. I backed away and shoved at her playfully.

     "Is nothing sacred to you, Salem?" I glowered at her, but grinned so that she would know I did not speak in earnest.

     Her eyes narrowed as she struggled between her dark humor and the seriousness of what we had just discussed.

     "I killed a god." she waved a hand, flippant. "The sacredness of things has since been lost on me."

     Her strange sense of humor won out and I stared at her, incredulous. However, I softened as I saw the mirthful gleam in her eyes, a light that I had witnessed all too rarely. I wanted to see more of it, to find out what would bring it into existence. I wanted to know more of her.

     _The battle is over,_ I realized, warming to the sacrilegious words she had spoken. _The war is done and we are free to explore who we are outside of bloodshed, terror, and the fear of loss. We are, all of us, going to change with the times._

     "What is it, dear heart?" she asked me as tears of a different sort welled in my eyes.

 _Joy. I am weeping for **joy.**_    

     "You are lovely when you smile." I ducked my head as a blush crept over my cheeks, as I realized that the desperation that had held us would soon be gone.

     That desperation would be replaced with new feelings, new emotions. Softness. Calm. Uncertainty. I had met Salem at the point of a sword, her body still in pain from old wounds, her spirit freshly minted from a battle in hell. Now, here we were, in a time when weapons could be laid down, when the rare moments at the fireside in cap would become more common. Fear crept into my heart once more and I quickly stamped it out.

     _No. There is **no** reason to be afraid. In those rare moments of calm, I discovered the true wealth and expanse of her heart. Those rare moments were when she began the arduous task of chipping the masks from my soul. Those were the moments in which we fell in love. _

     Salem's hands, now both scarred by the acidic blood of monsters, framed my face. I felt the difference in the textures of her skin, the calluses built from a lifetime of wielding weapons...the hands of a _true_ noble. I would never equate a soft hand with high birth ever again. Her lips met mine with a softness they had never before possessed; that they had never before been allowed. My heart fluttered in my chest as she kissed me with painstaking care, as the strength of her arms folded around me as though they had been forged for that purpose alone.

     I lost myself, closing my eyes, returning her kiss with ardor, without the frenetic frenzy of the desperate passions that had fused us together. I allowed the changes that would come to wash over me, infusing me with a greater hope than I had ever known. Salem trailed her lips across my cheek and down my neck, finally resting her forehead against my shoulder.

     "If that is the case," she smiled into my skin, and the warmth of her breath against my skin sent shivers down my spine, "I will never cease to smile."

     I moved away from her, holding her at arm's length, taking the time truly _see_ her as I had never been able to before. Her face was all angles and planes, as sharp-edged as the land she was born from. The high cheekbones were more prominent now because of the weight she had lost during her recovery. She still possessed the pallor of an invalid, but even that could not distract from her beauty. Her nose would have been perfect; the straight line of a noble profile, but it had been made slightly crooked from having been broken twice.

     _Once for me...in Howe's dungeons._

     Her dark hair, the color of freshly tilled earth, was soft against my hand. Streaks of silver ran through it now, the signs of age come too soon. She now looked as though she deserved the wisdom that surpassed her years. I traced the indigo and scarlet scar on her cheek with my thumb, feeling the incredible softness of the healed skin. All of her other scars, from battles, from torture, could be hidden. But not this one. Every time she saw her reflection, she would be reminded. Reminded of the days spent covered in blood and filth, an impossible burden on her shoulders...the wreck of her body that had once been strong and unmarked.

     She lowered her eyes beneath my scrutiny; hiding the eyes that had been scarred by looking across mortality and into eternity. They were a shade of blue I had seen in no other, like a winter sky, crisp and clean, swirling into a radiant silver at the center. I had seen these eyes blinded for my sake. I had seen these eyes hold love and compassion, kindness and sorrow, the wrath of the heavens.

     But never, _never_ , had they held fear.

     "You are...so beautiful." I whispered, my voice choking with emotion.

     "No." she shook her head, unable to see what I witnessed.

     A woman of impossible strength who had managed to retain her soul. A woman who had made decisions that would break anyone else with questions and anxieties. A woman who had decided the fate of races and kingdoms without compromising her emotions or beliefs. A woman who had seen the horrors of war, and retained the ability to feel.

     "Darling, I have stood before kings, queens, and princes." I told her, cupping her chin with my finger and pulling her eyes to mine. "I have sat in the place of honor in marble halls and ostentatious palaces. I have been covered from head to toe in silks and finery. I have seen the beauties of the nations parade before my eyes, proud of their grandeur, gazing down the height of their noses at those whom they thought were lesser."

     "Then you know what true beauty is." she worried her lower lip with the edge of her teeth.

     "Yes." I nodded, inwardly laughing at how very wrong she took my words. "I have witnessed the shallow hearts and dim perceptions of mankind, who gaze at a face decorated with paints and potions, every hair in place, body shaped to perfection by corsets and ridiculous heels and lust after it, not realizing that the so often the resonance within that soul is hollow and vapid and vain. I lost my heart to such a woman, once. Because I was young...because I could not recognize..."

     I trailed off, remembering when I had been entranced by the frippery and vanity of the world Marjolaine had opened to me. Remembering when I had been one of the hollow, painted faces in a sea of similar creatures who defined themselves in the petty thoughts and attentions of others. Remembering my shattered soul when I first looked upon the body ruined by a fortnight of torture and thought it forevermore worthless. That same body, scarred and damaged, that soul, broken and afraid, Salem had accepted. She had set fire to me with her kisses, held me close in the night, ignored the scars and saw the potential of the tarnished soul beneath. She had taken the time to erase the soot and the stain and let the light come through once more. She had changed me forever.

     "What?" my warden asked me, voice tremulous and so, so gentle. "What could you not recognize?"

     "What beauty _truly_ is...what you have shown me, Salem." my voice shook, but my words did not desert me. She needed this truth as much as I needed to give voice to it. "It is a soul that has great burdens forced upon it and does not look with anger upon the one who should have lifted those burdens. It is a heart that hears a tale of preposterous fantasy and listens without mockery. It is someone who discards their noble name and high birth and walks through life humble; who shows compassion to the less fortunate and does not deride the weak. It is a body that has been through hell...it is a woman who looks her torturer in the face and says 'I forgive you'. It is a woman who rails against her own countrymen who have richer blood and higher title for how they have treated another race; a woman who risks her own title and name and reputation in defense of those who cannot take up arms."

     There were tears in Salem's eyes, and her lips quivered with words she could not say.

     "It is a woman," I I continued, fighting the lump in my throat, "who takes a poisoned blade for the one that she loves...who endures the torment of blindness...and never holds it against me. It is a woman who has watched me walk away from her so many times...and each time takes me back, never flinging my past mistakes in my face. It is _you_ , Salem Cousland. You have changed me, my love, in ways I never dreamed that I could be altered. I have seen true beauty, and I wish never to look at anything else, ever again."

     She smiled, shy, abashed, looking like a stranger, a young woman who did not know the meaning of war. "I did what most be done." she whispered. "Nothing more, nothing less."

     I sighed, exasperated...but this was what I loved most about her. That in the light of her heroism, in the glittering grandeur of her accomplishments, she would prefer to remain in the shadows. She asked for no credit. She asked for no recognition. She simply asked that those she helped remember the strength that brought them up, and use it to help others.

     _But this is why bards came into being,_ I smiled, realizing the depth of my calling at long last, _to sing for the heroes that have died. Or for the ones too humble to bask in their greatness. I said before that I could not bring myself to write a tale for you, my love. I lied. I **will** tell your legend...I will proclaim to the world the beauty I have seen. _

     "We should go." I wrapped my arm around her waist. "Alistair is probably shredding the curtains with his teeth by now."

     She laughed and the sound of it echoed, foreign to my ears. My heart skipped a beat and I pulled her tighter to me.

     As we left the muggy comfort of the baths, arms around each other, the Divine's letter scraped against my chest, burning. Secrets had been revealed to me of a painful and possibly destructive nature. I still harbored my own. This was not the time...not yet.


	37. To Make a Man a King

**Salem**

     "Stop."

     "But..."

     "Here." I reached out and smoothed Alistair's hair before adjusting the stiff collar of the crimson tunic he wore. His irrepressible cowlick remained still beneath my fingers and I grinned at him. "That's better."

     The rich red that he wore accentuated the flecks of gold in his eyes, making them seem almost aflame. I gladdened me that he had chosen to keep the traditional Theirin colors, choosing what the people knew, what they were familiar with. Appearances were everything in the noble's world, for perception was reality. Alistair had been opposed during the Landsmeet. It was only Fergus' miraculous reappearance and my victory against Loghain that had secured our position and made this day possible. There was still a great deal of work to be done. Keeping true to the standard colors would help convince those who fear too much change that perhaps not all was lost.

     "I'm not ready for this." Alistair clenched and unclenched his fists, rolling the shoulder of his recently healed left arm, which had been broken by an ogre's first when my warden brother held the gates.

     "You will be fine." I assured him, brushing imaginary motes of dust from his impeccable clothing.

     He had never been to official court functions, as I had. He had been cast from Eamon's house when he was a mere ten years hold. They had sent him to the Chantry to be raised there. Unlike Leliana, he had not been able to choose the calmer paths. Instead, they thrust a sword in his hand and forced lyrium down his throat. He had been too young to understand, unable to deny those older and supposedly wiser.

     The life of a Grey Warden was not something anyone would choose. I had found that out with Ser Jory...a man who had volunteered until he realized the true risk, and the very real cost of taking the warden's oath. My gut had turned when Duncan had killed him, but I understood the necessity of it. To kill an archdemon was to surrender one's life. To become a warden was to risk having to strike that final blow, and that manner of sacrifice needed to be instilled in the mind already.

     Alistair had been different. He had willingly accepted Duncan's offer, eager to leave the life of a Templar behind him. Eager to be the judge of his own life, not submit to the edicts of others who declared death to men and women supposedly cursed with magic. A man who would willingly give his life to the taint and risk death in order to free his soul and aid others, with no compulsion pressed upon him to do so...I beamed with pride. Alistair looked, and was, every inch a king, even if he did not believe himself to be suited to the task.

     "Salem, I'm not...I am not you." Alistair blushed and looked around, making certain that we were alone in the anteroom of the main hall of Fort Drakon.

     I frowned, remembering those same words spilled from Leliana's lips. "And what bearing does that have on the situation?" I asked him. "I am no different than any of you. I am, in fact, perhaps lesser."

     Alistair scoffed and pulled the collar away once more, irritated by its height and stiffness. "You saved Thedas and Ferelden and killed an archdemon. You are lesser than no one and greater than most. You are the name on every lips...I would wager that one child in five born in the last four months has been christened with your name."

     I shook my head, refusing to believe him. I had done my duty to my Maker and my country. I did not wish to be called a hero. I did not even wish to be here. I longed for that which Bryce Cousland had made his life's dream. Peace. I needed no fanfare, no accolades. I needed a quiet place to be alone with my soul, with my lover...a place to leave the clamoring world behind for the first time in over a year.

     "Alistair, if anyone deserves the credit for this, it is you, and those who joined us along the way. You did the same as I, and fought when none else would. I counted on your sword in battle. I relied on you for counsel when all else deserted me. Now, Ferelden needs you. It needs you more than it will ever need me."

     "I'm not...I am not a king." he protested. "I have no taste for politics and even less for politicians. I..."

     "Made an impassioned speech at the Landsmeet." I smiled. "Even though I could scarcely stand under my own power, I heard your words, I saw your bearing. And I saw the reactions of the bannorn. They were impressed by your words _and_ your bearing."

     "I said those words for _you_." Alistair blushed and picked at the heavily embroidered sleeve of his tunic. "You...you give people strength, Salem. If I did not know the truth, I would swear you possessed magic. You have always...I mean...dwarven politics. Do I really need to say anything more?"

     I laughed, sobering as I remembered the horror of Orzammar, the sleepless nights I spent in the belly of the earth, wracking my mind, trying to decide which candidate for the crown I should back. In the end, I chose the main who had slain his father and siblings...but he was a man who looked forward, who wanted the caste system obliterated, the tattoos stricken from the faces of newborn babies. Sometimes progress could come at the touch of a kind hand, but more often it had to be paid for in blood.

     "We've yet to see how those dwarven politics will play out." I walked to a chest in the room, where I had secured a gift for Alistair.

     "And I am your next political experiment?" Alistair grumbled as a servant entered the room and tugged at his tunic, making last moment adjustments. "Throw the warden on the throne and see if he can swim?"

     "No." I turned around and Alistair's jaw dropped as he saw what I held in my hands. "This is no experiment, Alistair. This is me, trusting you and the blood you were born with, to protect the land that I love and am sworn to."

     "Where...where did you get...it cannot be." Alistair gasped. "Can it? Is that..."

     "Yes." I smiled as I set the sword in his hands. "I found it when we returned to Ostagar. My first intention was to return it to Anora, but that was before you revealed your parentage. This is yours, Alistair. It is Cailan's blade, the sword that he inherited from Maric, your father. I secured it with Isolde at Redcliffe before we left for the Circle."

     Alistair took the blade in trembling hands. "Salem, this is the Sword that Freed Ferelden. It is the symbol of our victory over Orlais. I couldn't...I cannot accept this."

     "Yes, you can." I told him, pulling the blade from his hands and affixing the sheath to his belt. "Because you, too, freed Ferelden. You liberated her from the archdemon and the darkspawn, breaking the siege in Denerim as surely as your father did years ago."

     "But you _killed_ the archdemon." Alistair stressed, standing stiff as I wrapped the belt around his waist and affixed the various necessary trappings of gilded rope.

     "And I survived it because of you." I finished with the sword and smoothed the wrinkles in his tunic that I had made. "We could stand here for days bickering about such trivialities. All that matters is this day, this moment. The crown is at last back in the hands of a good, sane man."

     "Salem," Alistair lowered his voice, "I do not even know what I am going to say. These people...they are all looking at me and expecting me to effect change, to re-build the country. I...I...I do not know what to do. I do not have your preternatural skill for saying the appropriate thing at the appropriate time."

     "I will be with you." I promised, taking his hand. "Every step of the way. The words will come to you, as they always have to me."

     "Promise me?" he asked, looking so very, very young.

     "I promise." I lied, as I had so many times.

     I had given my word to so many, with know way of knowing if I could follow through. But I always had, in the end, no matter the pain endured or the wounds inflicted. Because I was a Cousland. I would turn lies to truth because I _would_ keep my word no matter the cost or consequence.

     The door to the antechamber opened and I lifted my swords onto my back for what I hoped would be the last time.

     _Let there be peace. Dear Maker, let there be peace._

     A servant entered the room and bowed low. "Your Majesty, Lady Cousland," she addressed us, "the Revered Mother is ready and all the nobles are in place."

     "I do not suppose there's any backing out of this?" Alistair asked the moment she left.

     "Not in the least." I crooked my arm at the elbow and extended to him.

     We would walk down the long hallway to the future arm in arm, side-by-side, facing this moment as we had all other trials during the Blight. Together.

     "Well then." he took my proffered arm and we walked to the door.

     Before we opened it, he turned to me, leant down, and placed a kiss on my lips. It was not lustful; it did not seek anything. It simply was. It was everything he felt for me and could never say...because he knew my heart belonged to another, and he was a good enough man to accept that.

     "Forgive me." he whispered, resting his hand on the door.

     "It's...it's all right." I resisted the urge to brush my hand across my lips, not wanting to hurt him. "I understand."

     "You always do." he said, flinging the door open.

 


	38. Worth it All

**Leliana**

     Time itself seemed to stand still. The sweet strains of stringed instruments and the rich melody of flutes filled the air. Murmurs filled the great hall of Fort Drakon, where the Landsmeet had been held, but even so, this day still did not feel real. The end of the Blight. The coronation of a king. The fact that those of us who had traveled together, fought together, gone throug hell and battle and nightmares together...were soon to be disbanded, to return to the lives we had known before this time. 

     Wynne squeezed my hand and we waited to see history unfold before us. The Revered Mother of the Denerim Chantry took her place on the dais, standing before the throne, waiting for the man soon to be king. Were Salem not with him, I feared that Alistair might have fled this day, the future it held for him, and the terrifying responsibility. But I knew that she would, once again, help him stand where he needed to be. 

      _I cannot believe this day is happening,_ I thought, savoring the fine, textured silk of the dress that Wynne had given me.  _That I am here again, in a royal court, clothed in finery...only now I am a hero in this land. I do not wait to plunge a knife into an unsuspecting back. I do not sing with the intent to seduce. I am here, surrounded by those I have come to love, watching a country re-united._

     The Revered Mother extended her arms, placed her palms flat, and lifted her hands, a signal to us all. The music changed to a triumphant march and all the nobles and assembled people knelt down, bowing their heads, preparing for the future king to pass by. 

     I lifted my eyes, watching as Salem and Alistair entered the room. They walked down the long hallway, their backs straight, shoulders squared, looking every inch a royal couple. I felt the prick of tears as I remembered how easily this might have been two ceremonies...a coronation and a wedding both. 

     But Salem had chosen me...she had chosen me above a crown, above the opportunity to bring widespread peace to a land too long torn asunder. I knew that choice, made by a woman such as her, had not been easy, and could only have been made out of love. A love that I did not even know how to give thanks for, because words failed me. A single tear fell, and I did not bother to wipe it away. 

     I watched the eyes of multiple young women gleam; saw their hearts flutter and melt at the sight of Alistair. Their gazes were riveted to the muscles that strained against the confines of his tunic, the mellow amber flames burning in his eyes. My lips quirked upward in a grin as I thought about the shy, self-effacing warden being forced to dodge all of the court flirtations and women with designs on him. 

     However, while Alistair struck an imposing figure, he could not hold a candle to my warden. I had never seen Salem look like this. Her hair had been cut and lay in loose waves that tumbled to her shoulders. Her kind blue eyes shone out with hope and determination. Here, in this light, the scar on her face looked nothing like a disfigurement, but a sign of the sacrifices she had made to bring this day into existence. And yet, for love of Alistair and Ferelden, she concealed the aura of strength and comfort and peace that always emanated from her. She reined in the ferocity with which she fought, choosing to let another step into the light. 

     She had chosen to wear the warden colors of gold and black, though she had the right to wear Cousland's deep blue and silver, and Alistair would have clothed her in matching crimson and gold had he been given the right to choose. He would have placed her at his side as an honorary Theirin. He would have given her his name, as he had always longed to do. I feared he would continue in that longing. One did not simply fall out of love with Salem Cousland. I knew that all too well. 

     The golden griffon of the Grey Warden order had been embroidered on the breast of Salem's tunic. It suited her, as it was an extinct creature, and she a noble who clung to anachronistic principles. The majesty, the symbolism, painful as it was, characterized her to perfection. The time of her and those like her was quickly coming to a close. Such thoughts saddened me...people like her strove to be a force of  _true_ good in this world. They foreswore avarice and greed in favor of the greater good. The world needed them, but it insisted on killing them. 

     Pushing those sorrowful thoughts aside, I watched, unable to keep my eyes off of her as she ascended the stairs. The clothing she wore was beautiul, even though it obscured the definition ofher body...a body that had been abused, pushed past limits, that had even  _died_ for a land that would never know the gifts she had given it; the pain she had endured for the thousands who could not fight back. Her rippling tunic fluttered behind her, obscuring the limp that had yet to fade. 

     My smile dampened and my thoughts drifted as I recalled the reason...

* * *

_I wince, watching as Wynne unwraps the bandaging and removes the splints holding Salem's leg in place. My warden is still unconscious, and I am grateful for it as the senior enchanter begins to gouge her fingers into the wound, feeling the bone, testing it._

_"It's as I feared." she murmurs, looking at me, her gaze so very serious that I begin to worry._

_"What is wrong?" I ask, dreading to know the answer, dreading the thought of my warden being forced to endure yet **more** hardship. _

_"Even healing magic has its limits, Leliana." Wynne begins. "The damage done to the bone was...grave. Magic will not be able to completely repair it. She will still be able to walk, probably even to fight and run, but..."_

_"Then what is your cause for concern?" I ask, not understanding. "If she will still be able to live as she is..."_

_"That is just it." Wynne says, spreading a salve over the horrific wound, where the bone was forced through the skin. "She will not. She will probably never walk without a limp again. If she over-exerts herself, the leg will fail to hold her. And the likelihood is that, when the spring storms come, she will be in unimaginable pain...as though experiencing the break all over again."_

_"Maker's blood." I whisper, wanting to rail against all the gods and their madnesses. "This is not fair, Wynne. It is not **right** that she gives so much and...and receives  **punishment** in return? This is..." my voice cuts off in frustration, but Wynne nods and I know that she understands. _

_"I am sorry, Leliana." the elder mage speaks. "I loathe that I must always be the bearer of bad news for the two of you. Salem...Salem deserves better, but this life is so unkind."_

_"I will be kind to her in its stead." I swear, unable to think of my lover, who adores the storms, the torrents of rain, the pounding drum of thunder, and the spit-spark crackle of lightning, being forced to relive the pain of that injury each time._

_"As will I." Wynne promises, and I help her replace the splints and the bandaging._

* * *

      _I know the ache of old wounds all too well_ , I thought, feeling my lips tremble as old grief reawakened.  _Were the scars not enough? Must she also be reminded of that final, devastating battle where so much was lost? It would seem the old tales are all too true. There is little mercy for a warrior._

     Alistair and Salem reached the Revered Mother and Salem placed her hand on her warden brother's shoulder, squeezing it, imparting support. She withdrew to the left side of the dais, across from Ser Cauthrien, who had done heroic deeds of her own in the siege of Denerim, re-earning the honor that had been lost in her service to Loghain. 

     The knight's neck tightened as she looked at Salem, a reminder of what she would forever consider her failures. I could not help but chafe that the knight stood in a place of honor. I knew Alistair intended to make the woman his First Knight of the realm, for she had been the first to swear fealty, and she had killed Loghain. I knew that Salem had forgiven the woman for what she had done. 

     But I was not Salem. I could not forgive Cauthrien for the horrors she had made my warden endure. She had stood silent, approving as Salem was beaten within an inch of her life. She had torn my lover's back apart with a knife, pierced her hand through with a blade. She had not protested when my warden's back was shredded apart by a whip. She had spared Salem the horrors of rape...but that was all that she had done. 

     I clenched my hands into fists, trying to claw my way out from beneath the burdens of the past. This was a day of futures. Of rejoicing. Of peace. I could not retreate into old grievances and furies. I would not damage this moment in any way. 

     Salem stood next to Shianni, whose presence had caused quite a stir amongst the nobles of Ferelden. It was the first sign of the changes that were coming to Ferelden. Kallian had come to Salem after my warden had recovered enough to have visitors, and had spoken to Salem of the hardships faced by the elves in the Denerim alienage. Kallian had begged for a change, and said that she herself was not brave enough to approach Alistair, or to speak in public for her people. But her cousin was. 

     When the elven maiden had left, I had sat down beside my lover and told her of Kallian and Shianni's kindnesses to me. I told her of how they had cared for a shemlen after the battle. The two of them had convinced the elves of the alienage not to seek reprisal on the humans who had abandoned them to the darkspawn and the archdemon, but instead had tried to help in whatever way possible. 

     Salem had spoken to Alistiar, and, as usual, they had agreed. Now, an elf stood in a place of honor in the palace of men. I could see the anger in several human eyes, but they would learn, soon enough, that one did not argue with Alistair Theirin. Shianni had been named the ambassador of the alienage, and had been made an advisor to the king. Salem and Alistair had agreed: the elves required representation at court as  _equal_ citizens of Ferelden. They agreed that Ferelden  _would_ become a free nation.  _  
_

Free for all races, not just humans.

     At Cauthrien's right hand stood a dwarven emissary from King Bhelen of Orzammar, who brought with him gifts for the new king of Ferelden as a sign of the dwarves' good will. Bhelen had taken to Alistair, for a reason that none of us knew, or could fathom. However, even though she had secured his crown, Bhelen treated Salem with contempt. I knew the ilk of the dwarven king. He would not make easy friends with those who could not be cowed. 

     I smiled. Though some remained as yet undiscovered, Alistair had steel in his spine. Bhelen would find a different man as king than the warden he met beneath the earth. A man who had learned to bow his head to ono one. A man who had learned his wisdom from a woman who clung to the standard of days past. Days when justice was blind and adequately tempered with mercy. When faith and love were causes worth fighting for, not emotions to be extorted. 

     The Revered Mother began reciting the words of the Chant that exhorted kings and laid their missions and duties before them. I watched as Salem smiled; as we witnessed dreams, bought in blood and trial and terror, made reality.

 


	39. Asking for Nothing, Gaining the World

**Salem**

     "The lifeblood of a king is the faith of his people." the Revered Mother of Denerim's Chantry poured sweet-scented oil over Alistair's hair, anointing him into his new calling. "Rule in mercy and in justice, never allow avarice to supplant wisdom, and keep close to you those of good repute and counsel. In all your decisions, remain faithful to the Maker and the Chant of Light. Do you accept this adjuration?"

     "So I swear." Alistair spoke the words of kings past, pledging his life to the land, giving himself over to a greater calling than even that of a Grey Warden.

     Eamon stepped forward with a heavily embroidered pillow. On it rested a simple crown, a thin gold band commissioned by Alistair. He had taken one look at the jewel encrusted travesty that Cailan, a young man seeking glory, and worn, and ordered it melted down. The jewels had been sold and the gold from their purchase put to restoring the city and feeding the hungry. Some of the gold had gone into the forging of the new crown, and the rest had been appropriated into the royal treasury. I had been proud of Alistair's decision, for a true noble needed no rich adornment. A true noble needed only their name and their works to stand for them.

     The Revered Mother lifted the crown and set it about Alistair's temples.

     "Walk in the Maker's grace, Alistair Theirin," she intoned, somber, "and rise a king."

     Alistair rose to his feet; turned and faced the crowd of people who bowed before him. He looked most uncomfortable at the sight, but made certain that he smiled as all assembled rose, cheers and adulation on their lips. They were still too far away to see the blush that entered their monarch's cheeks, the fear the flitted into his gaze, then vanished.

     "This is, in truth, a new age." Alistair spoke, his voice commanding, as I had known from the first that it could be. "We have fought our way free from indentured servitude, and we have remained steadfast, though all the forces of darkness were set against us. This age has brought us signs and wonders. This age has brought sweeping change. We have known terror. We have known anguish. We stand now on the precipice of rebuilding what has been broken, and with that will come yet more change. But...as I have learned, as I have been _taught_...change, when greeted by those who can envision a brighter future, is _nothing_ to fear."

     _Excellent words._ Alistair glanced to me and I nodded my approval. He took a visible deep breath and continued.

     "We united as a fractured people to defeat Orlais." he said. "And we united once again to defeat the darkspawn horde. I have walked this country over," he smiled with the remembrances of our insane shared journey, "I have seen the spirit and mettle of its people. No matter the fear, they were unbroken. No matter the controversy, they were unswayed."

     _He is a politician borne and he does not even realize,_ I smirked, remembering the men and women who hurled accusations against us, the thieves and thugs and bounty hunters that sought to turn us in for the price on our heads. Ferelden was not so united as Alistair claimed...but offer praise from a high vantage point, and fear will morph into courage. It had always been so, and would continue to be, from this age into eternity.

     "We have a long road before us," the new king's voice rang earnest, full of pride and hope. "There is much to repair. We have lost many, good men and women all, in the conflict that, a fortnight ago, ravaged us. But I am not daunted, for when the good fall, there are others who are willing to rise to their names and continue the legacies left behind. With that in mind, I ask Fergus Cousland to stand here at my side."

     I watched my brother pale as he rose from his seat in the crowd. He ascended the dais and knelt before his new king. Alistair smiled down at him.

     "Rise." ordered the king, and my brother obeyed. "In the name of the king," Alistair placed his hand on Fergus' shoulder and turned him to face the crowd. "I restore the title of teryn and the lands of Highever to House Cousland. All rumor of their treason will be stricken from the records wherein they lie. The actions of this noble house speak for themselves, and shall be rewarded."

     "I am honored, my liege." Fergus said, audible only to those who stood on the dais.

     "No, Fergus." Alistair spoke at the same level, where a select few could hear. "It is your honor, yours and your family's, that has brought our land to peace. I am forever in your debt."

     "I did naught but my duty, for king and country." Fergus replied and Alistair's eyes shot to mine, filled with incredulity.

     I shrugged my shoulders and enjoyed the exaggerated roll of Alistair's eyes. He knew now, if he did not before, that Couslands were forever a lost cause.

     Fergus stepped down from the dais, his shoulder squared, his head held high, proud to see our family's name vindicated by royal edict. There would still be those who had sided with Loghain, who believed against us, whispered words of our non-existent treason, but none would dare cause dissent with a newly enthroned king. Especially not a king who had proved his skill with a blade and lifted a Blight from the land. To take Alistair Theirin in a contest of arms was to sign one's own death warrant, and well it was known.

     "A king is nothing without those he can trust." Alistair addressed the crowd once more, a light in his face that I did not understand. "And I have been blessed in that regard. I hereby appoint Arl Eamon of Redcliffe as my chief advisor. Ferelden has come this far because of his dedication and support. HIs armies secured our gates and rescued our families. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten."

     This declaration brought cheers from the crowd. Eamon had always been popular, his devout aversion to Loghain had swayed several noble houses in our favor during the Landsmeet, based solely on Eamon's reputation. When the adulation died down, Alistair continued speaking.

     "But all accomplishments, even mine, are cast into the shadows by a brighter light." Alistair turned to me, a wicked smile on his face, and I cringed.

     _Was appearing at his side not enough? Must he drag me forth and parade me before all assembled, speaking words that do not ring in my ears as truth? I am **not** a hero, not a legend...certainly not a brighter light. _

     I glanced into the crowd, feeling sweat begin to bead on my brow. My father had been called "the hermit noble" for a reason, a reason that rang true of his children. We did not seek to stand in the eye of the public, or be lauded for what we had done. One did not deserve honor simply for doing what was needed. The times did not matter, nor did the nature of the crisis. In times of trial, it was my duty as a blooded noble, not heroism, not courage, not bravery, that called me to rise to the challenge.

     My eyes caught Leliana's. She frowned at me and jerked her chin in Alistair's direction, forcing me to his side in full view of all of Ferelden's nobility. I sighed once more and did as was required of me, trying not to shrink into myself or shy away from the crowd. For me, the time of feigning strength had come to a close. But...for Alistair's sake...I would wear the mask once more.

     "There comes a time," Alistair took my hand in his own, "where many men set out to accomplish great deeds. And, in darker moments, only _one_ of those many can, against all odds, succeed. This woman, Salem Cousland, _**is**_ that one. It was she who took the tattered fragments of this country and re-wove them into a whole." his voice rose, gathering emotion and intensity. "It was she who fought her way through the darkspawn horde and felled the archdemon! It was she who spilled so much blood into this earth that she and Ferelden are one and the same! Ladies and gentlemen, nobles, people of Ferelden, I give you the Hero of our land!"

     He raised my hand with his and the crowd erupted into wild hysteria, cheering and chanting, deafening me with cries of undeserved adoration. I blushed a furious red, but kept my chin high, my hand lifted, joined with Alistair's in the alliance we had forged, and would keep strong.

     _It is not I who won this battle,_ I sought Leliana out from the crowd and saw the tears of joy streaming from her eyes. _I was a woman with nothing to lose, performing according to a new calling. In truth, it is those who aided us, those who came to our side and did not forsake us, who deserve the credit I am receiving. It is they who should be lauded by the king. Not me. I am...I am not worthy._

     Alistair relinquished my hand and raised his other, calling for silence. The roar of the crowd dimmed to my thankful ears and the king turned to face me, wearing a mask of strength when I could see the emotion threatening to drown him.

     _To give me such praise without declaring his love...his heart must be breaking. Dearest Alistair...forgive me. There are moments that I look into your face, see your earnestness, your desire, and **wish** beyond all dreaming that I could love you as you love me. I will never forgive myself for causing you this pain, though there is no way it could have been avoided. _

     "There are some sacrifices so great," Alistair spoke and there were tears in his voice, though hidden from his eyes, "that nothing can repay them. There are gifts given that can never be honored in their full measure. But I must attempt. Salem Cousland, before all the nobles of Ferelden, I grant you the favor of your king. Ask of me anything, and I will give it, in honor of the freedom and security you have given us."

     I shook my head. Alistair took my hand again and squeezed it, begging me to say something.

     "You know my desires." I turned from the people and met his eyes, drowning out the crowd.

     "Name it." he whispered.

     "Give the elves their freedom." I answered, keeping my voice low so that none but he might hear. "They are a people without a culture, without a nation. That is no reason to treat them as we have. make them our equals. Give the Dalish their anonymity. Draft laws that prevent and punish anything the equal of the crimes visited on Zathrian's children. Better our relations with the dwarves. Use Bhelen's approval to your advantage, and strengthen Ferelden by increasing trade and understanding with the kingdom beneath the earth. Give the mages further liberties; keep what transpired at the Circle from _ever_ happening again. It is when chains are tight that temptations become dearer and abominations are freed. This is a great deal, my king, but it is all that I ask."

     "Nothing for yourself?" Alistair asked, staring at me in disbelief, as though he did not think it possible.

     He turned to the crowd once more. "She asks nothing for herself!" he proclaimed. "She asks for nothing but advantages for those too often overlooked by those wearing the crown! Therefore, I give the arling of Amaranthine to the Grey Wardens, that once again they might be a part of this country, unhindered. And I name Salem Cousland as Ferelden's Warden Commander, and the Arlessa of Amaranthine! She speaks with my authority, and you may consider any edict from her lips as law signed by my hand!"

     I gasped in shock as Alistair narrowed his eyes at me and gave a devilish grin. "I told you, Salem," he whispered as the crowd began cheering again, "that once I wore the crown, you were mine. You have thrust me into this political mire; do not think you are free from it yourself."

     I lowered my head in respect to his station and title. "As you say, my liege."

     He scoffed and shook his head, turning to the people once more. "Ferelden, long have we been in shadows! Long have we been haunted by death and intrigue! Those days are at an end, as are my speeches! For now, let celebration reign!"

     He took my hand in his and we descended from the dais to mingle amongst the people. I sought for one person in particular...all that I desired in the world.


	40. To Dance for Joy

**Leliana**

     After Alistair declared the official proceedings of the coronation ended and descended from the dais, he and Salem were surrounded by the nobles and people who swarmed for their king's and hero's attention. Servants filed into the hall, carrying trays of meticulously prepared delicacies. The strains of strings once again sounded in the great hall of Fort Drakon, singing of victory, new days, and the ending of trial and sorrow. The crowd seemed to split down the middle as several couples began to dance to the strains of the music, which had been sonorous and official, but now were lively and full of joy.

     I sought Salem out in the throng, seeing the strain on her face. She had no love of this fanfare, no desire for a title she did not believe she deserved. But I knew the truth. Salem Cousland was more a hero than the men and women in the tales that I had memorized and adored. No legend told of a warrior who paled at the thought of recognition, who retired from the light with ease and no protestation. Those of legend had foregone humility, and for good reason. But Salem did not know the meaning of pride and vainglory. For her there existed but three things: duty, sacrifice, and love.

     I longed for her eyes to meet mine, for her to surge through the crowd and extend her hand to me. But I could not expect such things from her, not in this time, perhaps never in any time when we were not alone.

     _She belongs to everyone,_ a bittersweet thought filled my mind. _Alistair spoke true. She has spilled so much blood upon this earth and for this land that she had Ferelden are one and the same. Thus, all of these people, her countrymen, own her. She is their hero, their protector, their savior. It will be her name on their lips when they are afraid. It will be a prayer to the Maker for **her** swords to defend them in battle. _

_But...it will be **my** bed that she seeks out on cold nights,_ I warmed at the thought and smiled. _It will be my hands that cradle her heart when it is broken. She is **mine** , Ferelden. She is mine, and I...I am completely hers. _

     "Might I ask the pleasure of a dance?"

     Startled from my reverie, I glanced into shining Cousland eyes. A well-trimmed beard framed a hesitant smile. Fergus extended his hand and, feeling confused, I took it. His arm wrapped about my waist with a practiced ease and he guided me onto the floor with a smooth step that even an Orlesian prince could not rival. We moved to the rhythm of the music and I discovered that both Couslands possessed an eerie grace, an understated elegance, and a confident touch. Fergus seemed content just to dance and did not break the silence between us.

     _Should I say something?_ I wondered. _I do not even know this man...a few words spoken here, a nod there... **damn** Couslands and their mutual ability to leave me tongue-tied! _

     The eldest Cousland smiled down at me from a slightly higher vantage point than his sister. "My silence is doing you no good, is it?" he asked.

     "I'm afraid not." I replied, suddenly shy with his eyes on mine.

      _Does he know? Did Salem ever find the time to tell him...Maker's breath! Will he approve of me? Salem holds her family in such high esteem and loves them so...I would not wish to damage her relationship with him..._

     "In that case I shall scrabble for words." he twirled me out of his arms and back into them with the same skilled finesse that his sister possessed when wielding her swords.

     In a sudden, almost sharp, movement, Fergus drew me closer to him, more of an embrace than a stance suited to dancing, and my muscles tensed. There were still parts of me that were uncomfortable with the tight grasp of a man, parts of me that would fall back into the dungeons of Val Royeaux. But I closed my eyes, calmed my breathing, and reminded myself that this man was the brother of my love. That he would not harm me without risking his sister's terrible wrath.

     "I am in your debt, Leliana." he whispered, and I knew this conversation was not meant to be overheard.

     I nodded my understanding and he allowed me to step back. I edged closer to him through the music, gazing at him as we began to move in a rote dance. I waited for his next words, knowing that they were important to him. That he needed to say them aloud.

     "I have desired to speak to you on more than one occasion." his eyes glistened and I wondered if he might shed tears. "But it seems the times were always set against us. You have...you have been so very good to me, Leliana. You kept my sister alive. More than once, I imagine. I am...is there...is there anything I can do for you, any way that I might repay you for the gift you have given me?"

     "You owe me no debt, Teryn Cousland." I spoke, straining to keep my voice steady.

     _I still do not know his true sentiments. I know he harbors no antagonism towards Orlesians, but he still might simply be thanking me as he would Wynne or Oghren. We all fought through the Blight. We all kept each other going, kept each other alive._

     He laughed and I found the sound rang sweet to my ears, as did Salem's laughter.

     "Teryn Cousland?" he asked, incredulous. "That is a ridiculously proper term of address from a woman who is soon to become my sister."

     My jaw went slack, but I quickly closed my mouth, stricken speechless. Fergus smiled at my bewilderment in a much more radiant version of his sister's muted mirth.

     "Yes, I know of your betrothal." he filled the gaps in my knowledge. "I saw her signet ring gracing  your hand before she had even spoken o me of you. Salem would not part with that unless it were a matter of life and death...or great love."

     "I..." I stammered, "I...thank you...Fergus."

     "You need not be so formal." he encouraged me. "Though I suppose that familiarity with me will come in time as it most assuredly did with her. Salem has always been...lonely." he slipped into conversation as we continued to dance. "Even before the tragedy that Howe wrought on our family. She was never unkind, never reclusive, but...her mind always seemed to stay within itself. She is every bit our father. I am glad for you, for when she speaks of you her eyes shine and she smiles as she never has before."

     "I love her very deeply." I confessed, imagining my future, perhaps sitting before a warm fire in Cousland Hall with Salem and her brother, listening to their laughter, hearing stories from my warden's childhood.

     _A family. I will have a family, after so long with only enemies, and friends who were not **yet** enemies. I might know a comfort that I have not known since my mother's long-vanished embrace. Could it be that such a pleasant future exists for me? Can I even bring myself to hope that this might come to pass? _

     "I know." Fergus squeezed the hand that he held. "And though she is not dancing with you now, though she is now a symbol to her people, and forever their servant, I can assure you that my sister does nothing with half a heart. She is yours, Leliana."

     Hearing those words in a voice that was not Salem's, a voice belonging to a man who had known her from the moment she first took breath, somehow established the truth in my mind. My heart began to pound in my chest with a fury that rivaled the frenetic race it had felt with Marjolaine first kissed my cheek in feigned innocence. Because this was not a lie. This was not a dream, not a manipulation, not a plot or a play. I had the love of an honest woman.

     "I do not think that any of us can truly own her." I averted my eyes, watching as several of the nobles who had spoken against us in the Landsmeet prostrated themselves before Salem, praising her, thanking her.

     "I agree." Fergus nodded. "I tremble to see the destruction that would be wrought and the wrath that would come to bear should _any_ man try to enslave my sister. If I am to be truthful, I am shocked that she submitted to the Joining."

     I remembered my own flight to the Chantry, my desperation, my heartache, my pain. I grieved for Salem Cousland, for her life could have been so much different...so much better.

     "She had nothing left, Fergus." I whispered. "And it seems that Cousland's nature has always been sacrifice."

     "In place of an honorable death she would have killed herself with honor." Fergus shook his head and smiled. "I thank the Maker that she found a reason to live again, and, if you will forgive my forwardness, a very beautiful one."

     I blushed under the tone of his voice and struggled to find words to say, to repay the love that this stranger, who would soon be my brother, offered me.

     "Am I going to be forced to challenge my own blood to a duel for the favor of fair maiden?" a familiar, beloved voice intervened.

     "Salem," Ferus turned to his sister, a devilish glint in his eyes, "why make such a grand gesture only to be trounced before all assembled?"

     "Trounced?" Salem asked. "My dear brother, I would only fear trouncing if your sword were as quick as your tongue, but we both know that your blade lacks the strength, size, and sharpness of your mouth."

     "You strike a low blow, denouncing the size of my sword." Fergus countered. "However, since you have erected that question, I must press my own inquiry. Why do you bear two blades? Are you lacking in the very arena in which you denounce me?"

     I lifted a hand to my lips, hiding my smile as their verbal jousting bordered on exceedingly inappropriate conversation.

     "Ragamuffin." Salem taunted.

     "Saucy tart." a swift retort.

     "Fop."

     "Crone!"

     "Fools, the both of you!" I laughed, stepping out of Fergus' arms and into Salem's. "Surely my ruling, as the contested party, will assuage you bloodthirsty, backwater excuses for nobility."

     "Of course, fair lady." Fergus answered with a theatrical bow as the sun radiated from Salem's smile. "Thank you for the pleasure of the dance."

     "Thank _you_ , Fergus." I replied, speaking mostly with my eyes, blessing him for his acceptance of me into his family.

     "At last," Salem whispered as she took me in her arms and held me close, beginning the steps to a familiar dance, "I am allowed to be with the only one in this room that I _wish_ to be with."

     My heart caught in my throat and I did not reply, so filled with joy that all words had been rendered useless.


	41. A Perfect Bliss

**Salem**

     My heart welled over as I gazed at the woman in my arms. So rarely had we been given the opportunity to embrace with joy, with pleasure, with comfort and the knowledge of time being allowed. All of that, we possessed now. I did not have to worry about what next would come. I could stand here, with her, drowning in her eyes, making up for lost moments, lost time, and fear.

     _There is a song in this heart that had forgotten the joy of music. There is a light in these eyes that had been snuffed out by the countless rivers of blood. I have been sundered and re-forged into a different woman...a **better** woman. _

     "Well," Leliana gazed into my eyes like the lovers from legends. She smiled and my heart flipped within my chest. "This is certainly new. Could it be that, for once, your thoughts are not shrouded in shadow?"

     "Miracles do happen, dear heart." I smiled, feeling all hesitation gone.

     _No longer must I be cold and collected. No longer must I subvert my screaming heart and hide my tears in the black of the moon. I am at last free. Free to search out who I have truly become...free to love without reservation or anxiety over tomorrow's dawn._

      "Tell me what you are thinking." Leliana entreated, a smile on her lips and a light in her eyes that wreaked perfect havoc in my heart.

     So many times before, in the face of this same request, I had remained silent, afraid of sharing the great burdens that had nearly splintered my shoulders. So many times I had glared at her and she had ceased the inquiry, always with a look of hurt that I had cursed myself for causing. She had ever only asked for the truth, and I had attempted to hide, to convince her that the pain was not as fierce, the burdens not as wearing, the pressure not threatening to pull me into the sea and drown me beneath it. No more.

     "I am dreaming, Leliana." I told her as I swept her around the room, unafraid of the prying eyes of nobles.

     _Let them know. Let them see the beautiful woman that has guided me through torture and through torment, that has healed my wounds and caused them when needed. Let them know to whom Salem Cousland truly belongs. I am no longer Ferelden's devoted daughter. That time has passed. If my country has need of me, I will answer, but **she** will be at my side. _

     "I am dreaming." I squeezed her hand tighter in mine and pulled her closer against me, "of something I never thought I would possess. I am dreaming of our future. I am dreaming of the day that I can fulfill my promise to you and speak vows of devotion before the Maker."

     Leliana smiled, but she ceased dancing. Her fingers in my trembled and she pulled her hand away, leaving the dance floor and slipping from the great hall. I followed after her, not heeding the voices that called out to me. They were not important.

     _What is going on?_ A niggling hint of worry burrowed beneath my joy. _Surely I have not said something to hurt her, or bring her pain. Maker's breath, what have I done wrong now?_

     I followed Leliana into the anteroom where Alistair and I had waited before the coronation. I closed the door behind me and was immediately ambushed by a pair of strong arms that wrapped around me in a fierce embrace. All of my worry vanished as I held her in my arms. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hair, cradling her head against my shoulder, knowing that the tears that soaked into my shirt and that caused her body to tremble were tears of joy.

     "Salem," she stepped out of my embrace and took my scarred hands in her own, "forgive me. I did not mean to flee; I was simply...overcome."

     "I could spend a century with you and find no fault." I promised, unable to keep the smile from my face.

     I had never before known this surge of absolute, pure, pristine...hope.  _A dragon could descend and I would march into battle against it with this smile stamped on my countenance forever more. I am so happy, Leliana. So very, very **happy.**_

     More tears pooled in Leliana's eyes and fell, even though her smile rivaled mine for intensity and radiance. 

     "This is...this is beyond what I had ever imagined." she whispered. "As a young girl, I read the legends and dreamed of a love such as those written in the tales...of a lover with a kind heart and strong hands, pur eof spirit and beautiful of heart. I thought I...so many times was I deceived that those hopes died along with the innocence of that child."

     "I know." I reached out and brushed the tears from her face with the pad of my thumb, cherishing the satin smoothness of her skin. 

     "You don't." she assured me, reaching up and linking our fingers, keeping my palm pressed against her cheek. "You truly do not. Too many times, Salem, too many times I thought I had found what I sought. From the lovers I took as a young woman, to Marjolaine...all bitter, bitter disappointments and heartbreaks. I never wanted to love again."

    I remembered her screaming those same words at me in the Frostback mountains, the sheer anguish that had been stamped on her face. I never wished to see such pain in her again. I wanted even less to be its cause. 

     "You have told me as much." I replied, my throat tight with emotion, my eyes threatening to weep. 

     "I had built so many walls, my love." Leliana pressed my hand to her lips and kissed it, tracing the myriad scars with her eyes. "I had locked my heart behind layers of mistrust and hesitancy. And you...you tore them all down with a glance. When I saw, from the first, your capacity for mercy, when I heard the words with which you quelled arguments and challenged demons, I thought myself trapped in some sorcery. You are behond the meager joys I thought my life would hold...you are beyond the majesty legends can relay."

     I leaned forward and placed my lips against hers, confirming that I was real, not a figment of her dreaming. Her words for me and to me were the stuff of legends, confessions written into plays meant for the stage. They were not words uttered by mortal men...but we had brought down dragons and gods. We were no longer quite...human. 

     "I see I have somehow lost the power to render you speechless." I broke the kiss and grinned. 

     "How can such kindness exist for me?" my bard wondered, looking into my eyes without fear. "You...and your brother...he welcomed me with open arms, Salem. He does not even know me and he called me his sister. How is such...such  _goodness_ even possible?"

      _Thank you, Fergus,_ I whispered in my thoughts.  _And that you, mother and father, for instillin gin us your values of love and justice, mercy and compassion. I have been blessed beyond comprehension._

     "I have no answer for you, Leliana." I smiled, listening to the music on the other side of the door. "But I will search those answers out if you so desire. Come with me to Cousland Hall. Fergus has restored it and he relayed to me his wishes that we join him there once this is finished. Alistair has given me leave to do so." I reached up and took her hands in mine. "Say you will, dear heart. Please, say you will."

     She laughed. "As if there is anywhere I would rather be than your side. Yes, my love. Wherever you go, I will follow you."

     I kissed her again with joy, happiness, indescribable peace. She returned it with equal fervency and I wrapped my arms around her, letting my hands rove over the curves of her body, pulling her against me, allowing my mind to wander to all sorts of inappropriate places. At last, we broke apart, gasping. 

     "My darling." she took my hand, stepped away and started for the door. "I want so very much to pursue your touch; to divest you of your clothing and show you the gates of heaven...but I am afraid that we have these final festivities to suffer through."

     I nodded, attempting to regain my breath and calm my racing heart.  _Yes. Just one more night. One more night and then, my beautiful Leliana, I am going to take you and grant you the one thing you have never been given. A home. With me. Where we will be, at last, at peace._


	42. The Long Road to Home

**Leliana**

    "...and after the sun came out once more..." Salem fell silent, the words of her tale falling from her lips as we crested the hill. 

     She reined in her horse and inhaled sharply, gazing at the walls of the city that rose before us, not too far into the distance. Lush green grass waved in the wind, brushing against the legs of our horses. The ride from Denerim had been different. Something had changed between us; they were not darker, not worsened, but they were... _somewhat awkward, if I admit the truth._

     We were unaccustomed to the simple presence of only the other. Without the chatter of the others, the chaos that defined our lives during the Blight, the battles at every corner, we were somewhat at a loss of what to speak about. We had been taking tentative steps toward the other, sharing some stories of our lives before the Blight, but for the largesse of the journey we had simply rode alongside each other in companionable silence, cherishing the peace. 

     But now, Salem's blue eyes were faraway, and I felt a touch of fear spike through my veins. I did not know if she was lost in memories or in nightmares, but I knew that my warden's spirit was no longer alongside mine as she gazed at her ancestral home. 

      _This is not the first time I have wondered if returning here would be what is best for Salem. There is so much pain here for her. And yet she **does** return. She always clings to that which is dear to her, no matter the suffering involved...I should know. She has never turned me away, never let me down, and always welcome me back with open arms, no matter that I have scored her heart and damaged her spirit time and time again. _

     "I can see what calls you here." I whispered, trying to bring her back to me. "It is beautiful."

     The dark grey stone rose against the crystal clarity of the sky; a proud blue standard flapped in the wind, a silver rampant mabari seeming to dance upon it. It was not the grandest castle I had ever seen, but it was the most welcome. I had hopes of my own, hopes of dwelling there with my love, finally finding an earth in which to set roots. 

      _I want to take her name as my own. To belong to something of such nobility and honor...to create a new life again. As Leliana, the woman who wears no masks._

     "Highever," Salem spoke, her voice hoarse as though from ill-use, "the gem of Ferelden. Maric placed it under my father's command in thanks, in trust...giving the less desirable territory of Gwaren to Loghain." she snorted. "Yet another supposed slight against the Mac Tir name that Loghain chafed against."

     Her voice became even more sorrowful as she urged her horse into a slow walk. I applied a gentle tap to my mount's flanks and joined her, ever-watchful. Her features were set in fierce concentration, her eyes shielded by the waves of her hair. 

     "What are you thinking, my love?" I pressed when I could discern nothing from her body or her gaze. 

     "Of how easy it was to refer to Loghain in the past tense." Salem shuddered as though cold. "My father had no love for the man and neither did I, but...some days I still wish it had not ended with his death. I wonder..."

     Her words trailed into the wind and her hair whipped about her face, giving me glimpses of her eyes. In them I saw pain and questions and sorrow and I knew the question she asked. 

     "You wonder what became of Anora." I finished for her. 

     Salem heaved a weighted, beleagured sigh. "Foolish, I know." she admitted, turning her face to mine. "Her mother's family hails, distantly, from Nevarra. She has relatives there who would be willing to take her in."

     Something troubled me about the tone of her voice, the hint of wistful longing that I detected on the edge of her words. I knew that Salem and Anora had been girlhood friends, before Bryce Cousland and Loghain Mac Tire decided that their differences were too great, and severed all ties to the other family. The fact that my warden still focused on this gave me pause...I needed to know. 

     "Salem, why..."

     "Why after all this time and all that has happened do I still dwell on the fate of Anora Theirin?" Salem predicted my inquiry and smiled, but the expression was as faraway as her eyes. "Anora and I...Maker, we were young. We were young, foolish, and there were moments that we wanted to be more than what we were. There were times we almost became more than friends..." Salem shook herself as she sat in the saddle, as though a spirit had passed through her. "Nothing ever came of it, Leliana. It was years ago besides."

     A wash of memories returned to me...Salem's familiarity with Anora when we had gone to Howe's estate to free her. Salem's willingness to let Loghain live, to simply banish the man who had quit the field, leaving Cailan and the Grey Warden Duncan to their deaths. I had thought, at the time, that Salem's treatment of Loghain had been the last gift given for the sake of an old friendship, but it now appeared that I was wrong. Salem had been merciful because...because once she might have loved Anora. 

      _It would have been a child's affection, perhaps never to deepen, never to mature, but Salem honors love, even if it was love in its infancy. I am not jealous, for I know your heart and I know that it is mine. So I will not ask the questions of a jealous heart and begin a petty quarrel._

     "Is that the reason that Cailan and Anora never had a child?" I wondered, not wanting Salem to stay locked within memories that  _had_ to be unpleasant. "She did not prefer the company of men?"

     "That might very well have been the case." Salem mused. "Though Anora did love him, in her own way. She told me as such." Once again, Salem shook herself free of her thoughts, clearing her mind. "It does not matter, does it? She and I both found happiness. Somehow," Salem's smile all but blinded me, "I managed to keep my joy."

     She reached across the gap between us and squeezed my hand as we entered the open gates of Highever's capital. Cousland Hall's parapets rose above the rest of the city, but the home of the ruling family did not overshadow the quaint cobblestone streets or dwarf the modest homes and shops of the people. Salem's ancestral home, unlike the countless others I had seen, was not ostentatious. It had been constructed to be as part of the city, a high place to look to in times of trial.

     Indeed, the entire capital city mirrored Cousland Hall. The city we rode through was quiet, even quaint. The structures were quiet and unassuming. I knew that much of Ferelden's wealth came from this province and this place, but it did not boast of it. It would have been odd, had I not known the nature of the bloodline that had built it and nurtured it. 

     Salem and I rode through the city, watching the people walk the streets, speaking to each other, bargaining in the markets, going about their day to day lives. Salem smiled to see prosperity restored to her countrymen; the pain on her face eased as she sensed the peace in her city. I expected to see what I had seen before, upon the triumphant return of a hero. I expected to see the people of the city gathering in throngs, greeting their liege lord with waving and smiles, bows of respect, and the wide-opened mouths of children. 

     Instead, Salem merely received nods as from one countryman to another. I glanced around, seeing recognition of Salem on  _none_ of their faces. I knew Bryce Cousland had been a recluse, but surely here, in the home of Cousland Hall, his children would be well-known. 

     "Salem, what is happening?" I asked as we continued towards the castle. "Why does no one greet you? Why do they not celebrate your return?"

     My warden's lips were pinched and her eyes swirled with a deep, nightmarish sorrow. "It is all right." she swallowed the lump in her throat. "They do not recognize me. I am not well acquainted with my reflection, but I suppose I am much changed from the woman they once knew."

      _There is silver in her hair now, and lines on her face where before there were none. Her shoulders have broadened, her frame become more muscular, and there are...new scars. There are so many new scars. Let me take your pain, my love. Please, allow me to carry part of this burden. You need carry it yourself no longer._

     We reached the gates to Cousland Hall and the guards, arrayed in Cousland's blue and silver livery, crossed their spears. Salem reined in her horse, but I did not see the flicker of annoyance in her eyes that would have struck the gaze of  _any_ other noble I had met. 

     "Open the gates." Salem spoke, her voice calm, carrying the low authority I had become accustomed to. 

     "Cousland Hall is closed." one of the guards spoke. "No one is allowed through the gates until Teryn Fergus returns from the king's coronation in Denerim. Be on your way."

     Salem nodded and began to wheel her horse about. I stared at her in shock and disbelief, wondering why she had not given those men the truth. 

      _You, too, are of Cousland blood! Why do you not inform them of your identity!? Are you reluctant to return, or so disheartened that you no longer care?_

     "Have you gone daft?" a new voice broke in and Salem stopped short, turning her head. "That's Bryce Cousland's little girl, you fools!"

     I stared at the grey-haired, elderly woman who had emerged from the gatehouse, bearing a basket heaped full with produce. She had sharp brown eyes, and though age had worn on her body, she still carried herself with pride and the regality that could belong only to the wise and the kind. Salem's eyes rested on her and they caught fire. 

     "Nan?" Salem asked, flinging herself out of the saddle and approaching the woman. "Is it you? You survived?"

     "By the stars and old gods." I saw tears gather in Nan's eyes. "Salem Cousland. You've your father's eyes and your mother's face. I'd know them anywhere."

     She wrapped my warden in a fierce hug and the guards who had barred us entry now dropped to their knees, placing their fist over their breast in a show of fealty. After a moment, they rose to their feet and began to open the gates. 

     Nan shoved Salem out of the embrace and held her at arm's length, examining every inch of her, from the roughspun linen she wore to the scar on her cheek, which Nan traced with worn fingertips. 

     "Fergus sent a pigeon with the news that you have survived, my lady." Nan spoke, clearly in awe of the woman who, I assumed, she had watched grow up in this very home. "And that you had managed the impossible and slain the archdemon and ended the Blight! I could scarcely believe..." she placed her hand across her heart and breathed deep, "...I could scarcely believe the truth of it. But you are here now and all is well." She kicked the basket at her feet with disdain. "This simply will not do. I must prepare a feast and tell the rest of the staff that you have returned! Oh, there shall be  _joy_ within our walls tonight. You," she jabbed an authoritative finger at the gate guards, "spread the news throughout the city. Salem Cousland has returned!"

     The guards obeyed the woman's orders without question and Nan clasped her hands together, unable to keep her eyes from Salem. Her eyes beamed with veritable glee and her smile put the sun to shame. 

      _I have never seen a servant so...so overjoyed at their master's presence. The Couslands truly are a strange breed._

     "You must be weary." Nan bustled about, collecting her basket from the ground. "I shall see to it that a room is made ready and a bath drawn for you and your companion."

     "Nan, this woman is my betrothed." Salem smiled and my heart leapt as the expression of joy on Nan's face intensified. 

     "Then there is to be a wedding!" she exclaimed. "Maker's breath, child, but you always were unpredictable. You and that hound." she pointed her chin at Burrow before directing her brown eyes to me. "Welcome, child." she spoke and my heart burned at the sincerity of her immediate acceptance. "Salem's manners were always something close to atrocious. I have been in service to the Cousland family since Bryce was a boy, Maker rest his soul. You may call me Nan."

     "Well met." I extended my hand and she grasped it in a firm grip. "I am Leliana."

     "You are quite lovely." Nan complimented me and gave Salem a nod of approval. "You deserve to be happy, Salem. Come inside, dear, come inside. It has been too long, but..."

     "Nan." Salem placed a calming hand on the woman's shoulder. "Please. All in good time...do you know..."

     The brown eyes filled with understanding and sorrow. "Of course, my child. Your father's favorite overlook. You know the one."

     Salem looked to the sky. "Bless you, Fergus." she breathed, then kissed Nan on the cheek and mounted her horse once again. "We will return shortly."

     Saying nothing, I rode with Salem out of the city, across the rippling plains of grass, up to a copse of trees atop a small hill. I turned back and gazed at the city, an island in a sea of waving grasses, serene and beautiul. 

     "This was my father's favorite place." Salem dismounted and ran her hands along the trunk of an old, ancient oak. "He would come here with a loaf of bread, a wheel of cheese, and a bottle of wine...just to sit and meditate on the state of affairs, or on a particularly difficult decision. He said there was such great peace in this place; that he felt close to the Maker."

     She moved a little further into the copse of trees and I followed, uncertain of whether or not I should leave her to her memories. Her memories and her anguish were sacred to her, and she had never been granted time to grieve. I knew that I should have left her to the sanctity of her emotions. 

      _No,_ my heart intervened,  _too long has she borne all this pain, alone. I will be here for her, as she has been present for me...so many times._

     There were two granite monuments erected in the center of the circle of trees, carved with the names of Bryce and Eleanor. Like all else, it was a simple grave. There were no sigils of nobility carved into the stone, nothing that marked them as a man and woman of high birth. The monuments stood, unassuming, noble, humble...perfect. 

     Salem dropped to her knees before the markers of granite, her arms hanging limp at her sides. There were no tears on her face. Her lips quivered, even though she smiled. She reached out and traced her parent's names with quaking fingertips, that mysterious smile still perched on her lips. 

     I knelt behind her and wrapped my arms about her waist, resting my head against her back and shoulder in a silent show of support. I loved her so much, and I could see her spirit bleeding. I could see her heartbreak and her love and her hope all glimmering inside her spirit. I wanted to heal these wounds, but I did not know how. 

     Salem's other hand covered my own, and she whispered two words that pierced my heart like arrows, even though they were not meant for me. They were all that needed said, and in her soft, sweet, rough voice, they shattered me. 

     "I'm home."


	43. Making My Life Whole Again

**Salem**

    The wind caressed me and I shivered, thankful for Leliana's warmth at my back. I could not name the emotion coursing through me as I knelt here, before the monuments built to my father and mother's lives. I could not call it joy, for there was too much pain here for that. It was not sorrow, as I could not summon tears. 

      _Perhaps it is...relief. Until this moment, there has been a pressure on my spine, a weight on my shoulders, a nameless hunger that could not be sated. Now...now I have all I have ever wanted or needed. I have the woman I love at my side, my home restored and prosperous, my land at peace and...and..._

     "Even though you are not here to see it." I spoke to my parents, knowing that Leliana would understand and not judge. "I have tried...I have given my utmost to make you proud. I will miss you all of my days but I hope..." my voice cracked and Leliana hugged me tighter, "...I hope that you are at peace. I hope you can see my happiness. Thank you for the foundation you built for me. I love you."

     I felt empty of words; my heart felt at rest. I leaned back into Leliana's embrace and gazed at the sky, basking in the beginning of the Highever sunset. Her lips pressed against my cheek and I closed my eyes, taking everything in. The smell of my lover's hair, the sweet scent of the grasses, the beginning chorus of the nightbirds. 

     My family did not stand on grieving for the dead. We mourned our losses in our own way. We allowed the sorrow to remain, but we did not let it rule us. We cherished our memories and we honored them. The body might pass into the Maker's hands, but one who was loved never truly died. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland lived in my heart and in my mind, and thus I felt no guilt when I rose to my feet, squeezed Leliana's hand, walked to my horse and mounted. 

     We rode out from the copse of trees and made it a little ways back to the city when I reined my horse in, standing still in the ocean of grasses. It felt good to have the freedom to stop and feel an urgency for nothing. To not feel the desperate need to cover miles upon miles. I breathed deep, basking in the liberty that I had earned through hardship and blood and blindness and...and even death. 

     Lithe, gentle fingers laced with my own and I looked into the ocean depths of my lover's eyes. 

     "I love you." I whispered. 

     "And I you, my darling." Leliana replied. "Is all well?"

     My brow creased with confusion. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

     "It is getting late, Salem." Leliana's eyes flicked to the setting sun. "Should we not be going home?"

     I felt as though I had been slapped across the face. "Home?" I asked, shocked at the tone of my voice. 

     I sounded exuberant, giddy, like a child on Wintersend morning. 

     Her laugh was music to my ears, a sonata of lilting, rejoicing strings. "You are my home, Salem. And this is where you are happy. Therefore, it is my home as well, and will always be."

     All the world stood still and I gazed on her, transfixed.  _How is it that we have been through so much hell, breathed life into each other's souls, spoken in anger and in love and in pain and still...still...her words can shock me in such a manner._

     In the silence, Leliana's eyes filled with apprehension and she frowned. "Have I said something wrong?" she asked, innocent, the both of us exploring the strangeness of the other's company without the threat of interruption or bloodshed. "I did not mean to be presumptuous, I simply thought..."

     "Perfect." I spoke, and my voice grew hoarse with emotion. "Maker's breath, ancient gods...you're perfect."

     "Salem..."

     The embers of the setting sun cast a glow on her hair, turning it to a glimmering, rusty gold. Sparks danced across her eyes and I remembered how she had looked on the rooftop of Fort Drakon, body as taut as her bowstring, eyes flaming, a halo of light surrounding her, even during an eclipse. Fiercer than an avenging angel; purer than driven snow, more beautiful than a goddess. 

     She existed; my heaven on earth. 

     "I love you." I leaned forward in the saddle, cupping her cheek with my hand, and kissed her. 

     Her lips pressed against mine, equal in their eagerness. During the journey from Denerim, our touches had been hesitatnt, as though we were uncertain if they were welcome. A fleeting kiss, an odd squeeze of the hand...like two young women who had just met and were ill-at-ease with burgeoning emotions. We had even slept apart, awash in dreams too sweet to chance their being shattered in the waking world. 

     My hands moved of their own accord, tangling in her rose-gold hair, pressing her to me, teasing her lips with my teeth. A soft sound of surprise greeted me as I slid my tongue along her own, and I felt a spike of fire shoot down my spine, pleasant and warming and blissful. 

     "Salem..." she placed her hand on my chest, pushing me away, gentle, "...Salem, my love...what are you doing?"

     I swung out of the saddle and dropped to the ground, placing my horse's reins in Burrow's mouth. I reached out my arms to her and with a slight furrow in her brow, she accepted my offer and dismounted. I stood with her in my arms, replete, complete, and enamored. I brushed a strand of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. 

     "Are you well?" Leliana asked, searching my scarred eyes for her answer. "We have just stood at the grave of your mother and father, and I will not attempt to supercede your needs with my wants."

      _You beautiful, blessed angel. That is not the case at all._

     "Those stones are but monuments to living love in my heart." I assured her, kissing her, tracing my lips across her jaw line and down her neck. "Memories of the dead and I am  _alive_ and I..." I pulled away and I gazed into her eyes, "I  _want_ you, Leliana. I need you and I want you and please, be with me." my voice dropped to a whisper and a plea. "Be with me."

     A wave of joy surged across her features and she nodded. I reached for the laces of her shirt, glorying in her hitched intake of breath. Gentle, savoring every moment, I untied the leather and untangled the lacings, lifting her shirt over her head. I set it aside on the ground and made quick work of her breastband, admiring the perfection of her body. 

     That perfection lay in her flaws. Her scar tissue shone in the warm light of the sunsent. I could see where the whips had been laid against her back in stark relief. Her flesh was marred with horrific, raised lines where the leather had split her skin so far that it could not even be stitched back together. Deep, thick scars lined her sides where a burning iron had been placed beneath every single rib, every day for a fortnight.

     Her collarbones were etched with deep, inch-long hashmarks, fourteen on each side, one cut made for every day of her torment. Her decadent breasts had not been spared; I could see the intricate webs of silvery scarring where the skin had been ravaged by a straight razor. Even her areola and nipples had small, pocklike scars from where her torturers had lifted a rat to her breasts and let it feed. On her right side she bore the thick, horrendous patch of scar tissue from a wound her treacherous once-lover had dealt. 

     All of this, this damage and this sorrow, I loved. I ran my hands up and down her arms, admiring their strength, knowing their capacity for gentleness. I embraced her and kissed her once more, ghosting my fingertips across the lines of her scarring. She gasped and stiffened as her nerves awakened beneath my touch and I knew that I brought pleasure to her instead of pain. 

     Filled with joy, I lifted her in my arms and knelt, laying her down against the lush grass of Highever, a far more comfortable mattress than the finest Orlesian down. I hovered above her, drowning in her limpd, oceanic eyes. I kissed the hollow of her throat and she gasped, arching her body against mine as I traced every devastating and lovely scar. It was so soft. So smooth. So exquisite. 

     I kissed her once more, drinking in her lips, drowning myself with her breath, pouring everything I could not find words for into her body and soul. I ran my palm over her breast and her low moan vibrated against my lips as I circled her nipple with my thumb, feeling it harden under my touch, and soon, it was not enough. 

     I needed her, her skin against mine, our hearts and souls and minds and bodies as one. I rose to my knees and pulled off my shirt, wincing as I remembered the new scars on my body. I knew that Leliana had seen them and said nothing, but that did not make their presence any more palatable to me. 

      _I want to give you something perfect, Leliana; something that can match your beauty. I love you so much but I am so damaged..._

     "Stop that." Leliana's fingers whispered over the deep crimson scarring left by the archdemon's tainted blood. "You are beautiful and I love you."

     "Then I need nothing else." I breathed. 

     I lowered my lips to the taut skin of her abdomen, pressing kisses against her scars there, knowing their sensitivity, knowing that I could erase her pain from those memories with my touch. She had told me as much, and I would believe her. Her breath grew shallow as I traced a line along her inner thigh, teasing her through the thin linen that she wore. 

     Her fingers threaded in my hair and pulled my mouth upward. I smiled and traveled with her, rising to her breasts, planting a gentle kiss on each of them before I grasped a nipple between my teeth. She cried out and the wind carried that cry away as I nipped and laved, torturing her with tongue and lips. I feasted on her breasts, abandoning one for the other multiple times, listening to her moan and pant with need as I paid homage to her body, making her the temple in which I worshipped. 

     Her incoherent sounds of pleasure were the adjurations of my goddess. The warmth of her skin was the fire burning at my altar. The heat at the core of her was the faith in my heart. With my free hand, I cupped her sex, my shrine and my solace, and applied a gentle, kneading pressure. 

     "Maker!" she gasped as her body spasmed. " _Salem,_ " my lips curved into a smile as she whimpered, " _ **please.** " _

      Whatever she asked of me, I would give. I could do so now, and that thought elevated me to heights of ecstasy. I rose from her breasts and lay alongside her, savoring the moment as she attacked me with hungry, frantic lips. I returned her kisses and slipped my hand beneath the waistband of her pants, moving my fingers through the tangle of coarse hair above her sex. 

     "Incorrigible," she bit my lower lip and her fingernails gripped my shoulder with such ferocity I felt skin break, " _tease_."

     I moved my hand lower, exhilirated as my fingers greeted slick, eager folds. Deep fire settled in my gut and I explored every fold with my touch, soaking my skin with her arousal, watching her lips flutter closed and her head turn to the side as I tortured her in the sweetest of ways. 

      _You are my everything, Leliana. I wish to spend the rest of my days with you, learning you, touching you, tasting you, healing you. You are my music and my soul, my radiant light in darkness. I will always know where you are, for your spirit burns within me. Without you, I do not know myself, for you are the one that made me._

     I moved my fingers to her entrance, placing two against it, feeling the fluttering pulse of her need against me. I applied the lightest of pressure and she groaned and shivered. 

     "Salem," her eyes opened and scorched me, "Salem, please, I need you inside me."

     My restraint undone by her words, I slipped two fingers into her core, cherishing her contented sigh more than I would have a cry of passion, for I knew what it meant. Her hips began to undulate against my hand and I nibbled along the shell of her ear. I did not realize how much I had needed to re-acquaint myself with her body; how much I needed to bring her pleasure. This moment was...perfection. Simple, absolute, utter perfection. 

     "You are so beautiful." I whispered as I continued the motion of my hand, listening to her sighs become sweet, soft, urgent moans. "I am so blessed. To be with you, to hold you..." I kissed her, gentle, "...this is all the paradise I could have wanted."

     I thrust deeper into her as I inhaled her scent and kissed along her neck, biting with gentle pressure. Her nails raked down my back and I hissed, a deep ache awakening between my legs. I ignored it. There would be time...later. This moment belonged to Leliana. I wanted to give her what she had so often given me. Comfort. Pleasure. Peace. 

     My lover pressed against me, her hips moving in an insistent rhythm as her eyes took on that frenzied, faraway look that I loved so much. I continued the motion of my fingers and hand, reaching up with my thumb and brushing the stiffened bundle of nerves at her zenith. I savored every small quake in her body as she drew ever nearer to the edge. Her muscles tensed around my fingers and I slowed my pace, touching every nerve, evoking every sensation. 

     I curled my fingers up and pressed my thumb to that precious nerve cluster, touching her without and within in the place of her ultimate pleasure. Leliana's body stiffened and her mouth parted in a wordless, addictive cry. She shuddered as she fell over the edge of her climax, as I kept moving inside of her, prolonging her pleasure. Her teeth latched onto my shoulder and strangled, inarticulate sounds of pleasure crackled across my skin. I held her tight to me, never wishing to let go, holding her as she descended back to earth. 

     Suddenly her hand was on my cheek and her lips were against mine and I could taste her tears. Tears of joy and wonder. Tears of love and passion. They were good tears. After so long, she cried  _good_ tears. 

     Slow, with great care, I removed my hand from her core and brought my fingers to my lips, tasting sweet and salt and  _Leliana_. She laughed low in her throat and kissed the tip of my nose as I drew her body further against mine. We lay in the grasses, my arm around her, her head pillowed on my breast, watching the moon rise. 

      _Death and rebirth,_ I thought, idly playing with Leliana's hair.  _All things to their time. Now is a time of life and living, and I will **seize** all the joy that is offered. _ _  
_

     "You are," Leliana murmured, her heated breath washing over my breasts, making my nipple harden, "so endlessly good to me." _  
_

     I laughed as I watched stars appear in the sky, feeling as if their light shined brighter for my joy. This is all that I had dreamed of before the Blight. A warm and still evening, a sky teeming with stars, and a lover with whom I wanted to share the entirety of my life. 

     I smiled and kissed the top of Leliana's head, inhaling deep, basking in the wild scent that was _her_. "Welcome home, dear heart."


	44. A Legacy to Belong To

**Leliana**

     _Maker's breathe...you are so lovely,_ I gazed at Salem in the softer light of the moon as we rode towards Highever's capital. The gentle light smoothed her fair skin, removing the faint lines that I had seen etched at the corners of her eyes and the lines of her smile. Worry lines, sorrow lines...age's lines. Salem was but one year my junior, and her life had been one of relative ease until the Blight struck. 

     To see the damage that had been wrought on her from the Joining, the battles, the worries, the pain, the wounds... _so many wounds..._ it seemed wrong. Wrong that the Maker's most devout champion had skin composed of more scar tissue than flesh. Wrong that her bones had been broken too many times. Wrong that her life, which should have been rich and well-lived...would be cut short to a cruel thirty years...if we were lucky. 

     We were not often lucky. 

      _And now, as she seems replete with joy, it is my thoughts that drift to darkness. How can this be; I am happier than I have ever been. I am..._

     "Strange," Salem broke the silence, "most people hide their thoughts beneath the moon. Why does it seem that yours are more transparent?"

     I blushed, almost ashamed that she would see my emotions and my thoughts so clearly. "Perhaps because I wish for you to see what I am not able to say." 

      _What I do not want to say._

     "Are you unhappy?" she asked, sounding so serious that I felt once again how well I was loved. 

     "Maker, no!" I exclaimed, eager to reassure her. 

     "Then why are there shadows in your eyes?" salem asked, her tone so earnest, heart so open that I did not know what to do. I had become accustomed to prying truths from Salem at the edge of a blade. 

     This was new...and beautiful. 

     I went back to my thoughts, reflecting on the cruelty of the Maker, on the cruelty of Fate...the letter tucked safely away in my satchel, still unseen by Salem's eyes, still unknown. I had meant to show her, to tell her, to discuss the future that such a thing could bring about, but...as we had neared Highever, the light in her eyes had grown more intense, her smile easier to spring to her face, her laughter a song I heard more and more often. I did not want to dampen that joy or end that light. 

     I wanted the woman I had lain with earlier, the woman who spoke to me now with an overflowing heart and a mind so keen and gentle that it eroded defenses with a whisper. I wanted to learn everything about her...wanted to remain at her side forever. 

     "I was dwelling on how...unfair...life has been to us, my love." I breathed, hating the revelation. 

     I could see the shadows in my eyes filter into Salem's gaze, marring the light, marring the scars, marring the lust that had scorched me as we made love. But instead of giving in, she shook her head, smiled, and the shadow vanished, simple as that. 

     "If we continually meditate on the random whims of gods and the intricacies of fate, than any chance of joy is lost to us." Salem spoke her mind. "Can we...simply be? And not think? And not dream and not want and not hope? Those things are all...for the future...I have lived in the what-might-be and the why-this-was for too long, Leliana. I want but to live...and live  _well_...for however long I may."

     "As you say." I smiled, feeling my inner darkness vanish away at her words and the hope, at long last the  _hope_ , within them. 

     We rode the remaining distance to the city in companionable silence. I felt amazed and in awe, letting my horse do as it wished, for I wanted to focus my attention on no one but Salem. The last time we had made love, we had been in Redcliffe, that fateful night when Salem had been told she would die. With her touch, her words, her lips, she had proven to me this night that she was so  _very_ much alive, and that she had not changed. 

     She still loved me--and even though I knew that love was deep and lasting and profound in its very existence--there had been  _lust_ in her eyes as well. I had been lusted after, and it had made me feel tawdry and cheapened, because lust was an end in itself. However, Salem's lust made me feel nothing but desirable, even though I knew the scars on my body and in my soul were things that most would never find beautiful. Somehow, she was able to, and I would be forever thankful. 

     Before long, we had made it back to the road, and we entered the gates of Highever's capital. My jaw dropped. The streets were lined with scores of people. They were cheering, waving, throwing flowers in the streets, waving handkerchiefs of blue and silver. An armorned knight ran in front of the horses, holding the Cousland banner aloft and the torches held by the citizens cast a light that made the silver, rampant mabari flash and seem alive. Burrow trotted forward to the soldier, rose on his hind legs, and howled. Salem raised her hand in greeting and the crowd burst into joyous uproar. 

      _It would seem that word spread of Salem's return. I am glad. She deserves such fanfare, though I know she is despising her life at this moment._

     I examined the crowd, looking into the faces of old men, watching tears slide down their weathered cheeks. Elderly women clasped their hands together and placed them against their lips, as if overcome with joy...as if their own child had returned home safe after the war.

     Young men and women clad in chain mail, wearing tabards of blue and silver with the mabari on their chest. As we passed, every one of them drew their sword and raised it aloft before placing the flat of the blade against their chests in a show of fealty and honor. Children gazed at my warden in awe, their mouths open in tiny 'o's of wonder. 

     These people, these innocents, had lost so much under the terrible, if brief, reign of the treacherous Arl Howe. Fergus had routed his invading force, and Salem had killed the man...she was her people's hero twice over. Though she would never believe it, she was also my hero. She had saved me from the Blight on the land and the blight in my heart. 

     I glanced to my warden and watched her eyes fill with tears; saw her lips curve into a smile that said everything. That every scar she bore had been given meaning and purpose. That every nightmare endured had been worth it. Salem reined in her mount, then did what  _no_ noble I had ever accompanied during a triumphant return, and there had been  _many_ , had done. 

     My lover dismounted her horse and tucked its reins between Burrow's teeth, trusting the hound to lead the stallion safely. She left the center of the road and walked to her people, taking their hands, embracing them, reaching out to them even though, by all standards, by all laws every written in the hands of men, her station lay above theirs. But she did not care about her appearance, of the wealth and power of her bloodline. She knelt down in the throng, lifted a small boy and settled his cubby legs about her shoulders, walking back to me bearing the child. A ridiculous smile was stamped on her features and I  _adored_ it. 

     "This, Asher, is the Lady Leliana." she spoke in a grave, somber voice, and the child extended his hand to me. 

     I clasped it, charmed but also confused. What need had Salem to introduce me? This moment belonged to  _her_ , and I felt content simply to watch. She deserved this fan-far, this welcome, the gleeful and grateful expressions of her people. 

     Salem craned her neck until her eyes locked with little Asher's. "Can you keep a secret?" she poke in a false whisper. 

     The child nodded his head, grave, and I smiled at him. 

     Salem lifted her hand and pointed it towards me, grinning like a feral cat. "Lady Leliana is the  _true_ Hero of Ferelden." she told him. 

     "But you..." the child protested, looking from me to Salem, bewildered. 

     "No." Salem shook her head, a glint in her silver-blue, scarred eyes that made my heart flutter in all the proper ways. "She did it all. But you mustn't tell another soul. This is our secret, Asher."

     The boy's wide brown eyes blinked very slow as he processed Salem's words and he nodded his head, an innocent grasping the importance of the situations. 

     "Yes, Lady Cousland."

     "Right then." she smiled and swung him from her shoulders, setting him to the earth with as much care as she would exhibit if he were her own child. "Off you go, little one. You," she ordered me with false imperiousness, "off of that horse this instant!"

     I laughed and took her hand as she helped me dismount, gazing into her eyes and falling in love, deeper further, faster than the last time, or any of the time before that. 

     "You are a liar and a coward." I accused her. "Telling that poor child such a grievous untruth."

     Salem took my hand and we walked through the crowd to a chorus of "Maker's blessings, milady!" "Ferelden and House Cousland eternal!" "Long live the House of Cousland!" "Welcome home!"

     "I told the boy the truth as I see it." Salem squeezed the hand she held and I could scarcely believe the woman standing before me. 

     Beautiful, as she had ever been. Gracious, as she had ever been. Unbelievable, as she had ever been. But happy. Happy as I had never seen her. Joyful as I had never known she could be. Gone were her creased brows, her calculating eyes, her stern demeanor. 

      ** _This_** _is Salem Cousland,_ I realized.  _It is just that...I have never seen this side of her: a woman of high birth and **powerful** blood that is not content to sit above her people. She walks among them, makes their joys her own, their sorrows her worries, their pain her burden. If she has always been this way, then it is no surprise that she succeeded in her mission to End the Blight. It is no surprise that, caring for Alistair as she did, she allowed him his weaknesses because she knew her own strength could compensate. _

      _I love her. I love her with all of my heart, want her with all of my soul. And now, now I realize. I want **this.**_

     I glanced at the swirl of people, men and women and children who took  _my_ hand and clapped me on the shoulder and thanked me in the rough Ferelden accent with which Salem herself spoke, content to speak as her countrymen spoke...unlike other nobles, who hired tutors to train their voices out of such habits. 

      _I **want** all of this? This love, this belief, this caring, this kindness. I want to be like Salem...someone deserving of this acclaim and this affection that I have never seen. I have seen crowds gather for their lords, out of respect, out of duty, oftentimes out of fear. This, I have never witnessed. I have never seen the masses assemble out of  **love.**_

     We reached the inner gates to Cousland Hall, Burrow and the horses following faithfully behind us. Salem turned to the crowd and smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. 

     "Highever." she spoke in the clear, crisp tone tha thad raised armies and felled gods. "I...I do not deserve this. I do not deserve your cheering and your love. I am grateful for it, but I...I failed you."

      _What in hell?_

     I watched sorrow enter the faces of the people as they remembered the horrors of an attack from within their gates. Salem's countenance, too, was dark with the memory. Her lips trembled and I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but knew that she would not accept that. Not here. Not now. Later, yes. 

      _Yes._

     "I failed to save my father and mother." Salem continued, her voice quavering. "I failed to fight to my last breath for you. This reception is...so warm and so welcoming, but I am undeserving. Please, my people, find it in your hearts to forgive me."

     A din of mass outcry reached my ears, the people screaming out their protests for this needless apology. I looked to Salem and saw the grief on her face; that she did not wish to speak these words even though her soul woul dnever be unburdened if she did not. She did not want to relive that night. It still slipped into her nightmares. Too many nights I had woken to the tears on her face, her eyes locked wide in horror and self-recrimination. 

     "Milady, please!" a single, thunderous voice rang out from the throng and a man in armor and Cousland livery stepped out into the small circle where Salem stood. I could tell that he possessed some high rank in the city guard, for the people quieted at his words. 

     "Lady Cousland," he spoke, gruff, "the loss of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland is not one easily recovered from. Nor was watching a traitor's flag rasied over your ancestral home any form of pleasure. But if you think for a moment that  _any of us_ harbors any ill-will towards you, then you are sadly mistaken! There is a Theirin on the throne, a Blight ended, and peace at last! Had you not lived, we would all have perished! And though your brother has been named our teyrn, and though he is our liege lord, the people of Highever will forever swear fealty to  _all_ members of House Cousland."

     A roar of assent threatened to deafen us, and tears lined Salem's weary, beautiful eyes. 

     "Thank you." she spoke, though it was clear she strained to raise her voice above a whisper. "Please...no more of this. Please go to your homes, love your husbands and wives, play with your children, drink with your friends. Be at peace. Celebrate life."

     All assembled bowed low and I smiled, never having seen this love between a lord and their people. After a moment, they rose to their feet, and Salem shocked me yet again. She knelt down on one knee before her people, placing her right fist over her heart and resting her forehead on her knee. My lips parted in shock but it seemed I was alone, for no one in the crowd had surprise on their features but me. 

     The crowd dispersed and Salem and I turned, walking through the gates that led to her family's home. I looked to her, needing to know what I had just witnessed, and why it had transpired. 

     "What was that?" I questioned. 

     "What?" she asked, walking up the stone steps to the entrance of Cousland Hall. 

     "You...you bowed to them and they thought nothing of it. You made yourself obeisant before the people you rule." I stated the source of my bewilderment. "I do not understand."

     Salem laughed and threw her arm around my shoulder. "Without a people to support them, who honor them, a noble is nothing but a man or woman. We owe our every success to those who endure us and allow us our position. Therefore, every Cousland has bowed to their people in thanks. To lead is to serve, Leliana. I live my life by that belief."

     I stopped and grasped her arm, turning her to me, fierce and insistent. "I want this." I told her, eager and blunt. "I want...I want to become what you are. I desire to be someone worthy of honor...someone who does not inspire fear, whose name is spoken of in something  _other_ than a fearful whisper."

     "You are all of this already, dear heart." she assured me, sealing her belief with a kiss. 

     "I have been so many things, Salem, and all of them pale in comparison to you." I spoke the truth as  _I_ saw it. "My love, would it be...would it be too much, too forward if I ask, that when we are wed, you allow me to take your house name for my own."


	45. Broken and Re-Broken

**Salem**

     I stared at Leliana in shock, stunned by her request, in awe of the earnest look in her eyes. The stars glimmering above were dim by comparison to the hope and the zeal that burned behind her gaze.

     "My name?" I asked as the doors to Cousland Hall opened and light spilled over the stairs.

     "Please?" her hands squeezed mine and drew me in closer to her. "My mother had no house name, as she was a Ferelden commoner. I was never truly Cecile's daughter and thus she never gave me her name. With Marjolaine I was simply 'nightingale', at the Chantry, 'Sister Leliana'. I...I want to belong to something wonderful, something so strong and bright that nothing can sunder it. Something permanent and...and _mine_."

     _And I am your permanence? I am what you wish for your eternity to hold? Maker, I adore you._

     "Hmmmmm." I pursed my lips, considered the option, and looked off into the distance, determined to tease her. "I am uncertain. I believe that _one_ Salem is enough for Thedas."

     "How _dare_ you mock me!" she exclaimed in false anger, which melted into a heart-rending smile. "I do not know if this is even possible...a marriage such as ours...if it would be upheld by law. But to carry you always with me...to finally belong somewhere. A name, a home, a family. It would fulfill my one, remaining dream."

     "Everything I have is yours." I promised her, watching as a shadowy figure obscured the light pouring from the door. "My home, my heart, and even my name, if you desire it."

     "Leliana Cousland." she experimented with the sound, her pleased smile indicating that she did, indeed, find it to her liking.

     _As do I,_ my heart swelled with love and desire. _It sounds, somehow, fitting._

     "I could very easily become accustomed to hearing that." I told her, finding our desires now aligned. To give her my name was proof, tangible, hearable proof that we would be forever bound. Together. "I love you."

     I linked my arms with hers and we ascended the stairs. I attempted to simply see the walls of my home...not the stones where blood had been splattered, not the phantom forms of bodies that lay slaughtered. Distant, in my ears, I heard the sounds of swords clashing, the screams of men and woman beset by the enemies that masqueraded as allies. Sparks of red light flashed in front of my eyes. I could hear the howling of the kennels, Howe's soldiers slaughtering our mabari for no reason other than destruction. In the night I heard the shriek of a child trapped by burning lumber...a child that Duncan had not allowed me to save.

     I closed my eyes and shook my head, attempting to remove the visions and memories of terror and hopelessness and failure. But, when I opened them once more I saw the room where my father had died. I saw my mother standing over his body, protecting him. I watched her firing arrows until not one, not two, but three swords were plunged through her body. I heard her wretched, gurgling scream in my ears as I escaped and _she_ fell.

     My throat tightened and I struggled to breathe. Every single scar on my body caught fire and began to sting as my heart pounded like fury against my ribs. I stumbled as my right leg gave out under a spike of pain so ferocious it felt as though I had broken it again.

     Leliana wrapped her arm about my waist and took my weight, arresting my fall.

     "Salem," her voice was thick with worry, "what's happening? Are you all right?" she scrutinized me, and in her ocean eyes which knew me so well, realization dawned. "Maker's breath...you're in pain."

     "I'm...all right." I gasped though I relied on her support to remain standing. I saw the shadowed figure at the door begin to move down the steps and I cursed under my breath.

     "You certainly are not." Leliana lifted my arm around her shoulders and moved closer to me. "Stay still, Salem. Do not try to move until your feet are beneath you once again."

     "I'm...fine." I growled as Nan reached us, her weathered eyes tight with unnecessary concern.

     "Mistress Leliana, what's happened?" she asked as she moved to my other side. "Salem, Salem, are you well, child?"

     "Salem is still recovering from old injuries received at Fort Drakon." Leliana blithely lied, for Wynne had pronounced me as well as I would ever be. "Perhaps we traveled her too speedily. Please, Nan, if we could just get her inside; she needs rest."

     I turned my face into Leliana's shoulder so that Nan could not see the pain stamped on my features. It had been difficult enough for those who worked here, who had lived her and spent their lives with my family to lose my mother and father. I did not want her to fear losing me as well. I should have been alleviating their troubles and sorrows, not exacerbating them.

     "Of course." Nan complied as she helped Leliana support my weight. "I've had the east wing of the house prepared for you and a bath drawn. Are you hungry; would you like a meal delivered to you?"

     "We would consider it a great kindness." Leliana smiled as they helped me up the stairs, across the familiar stone floors that, for me, were strewn with nightmares. Gruesome reminders of my failure dogged me with every step. Wherever I looked, I saw the red smear of blood staining it, screaming that I failed.

     _You left them,_ the thoughts I had repressed and ignored for long months came **_shrieking_ ** to the forefront of my mind. _You left your people to be butchered by men no better than rutting dogs. Your nephew was slaughtered in the room **next** to you; your brother's beloved brutalized and **raped** as you slept! And you left them...you left your father bleeding and you watched your mother die and you have the **arrogance** to return here? To insist upon calling it home!_

_Can you hear them, Salem? Can you hear their screams, their pleas for a champion? You saved all of Thedas; where was that strength when **those you loved most** had need of it!? Where was it **then!?**_

     Tears coursed down my cheeks as phantom pain attacked my body; every wound received during the year of the Blight caught fire, reminding me that I had left Cousland Hall unscarred and returned so very, very damaged. My muscles began to spasm beneath the onslaught as Nan opened a door and led us into one of the hall's many guest rooms.

     _Bless you, Nan,_ I thought the words I could not speak. _You knew it would be too painful for me to return up those stairs. To stand where I stood on that night. Even Leliana's presence could not mitigate **that** pain. _

     Leliana settled me on the edge of the bed as I tightened and tensed every part of my body, trying to remain strong so that none but the one I trusted with my heart and my soul and my love could see me so damaged. I knew, now, having learned a long last, that she would judge me for nothing. She would accept my weaknesses and my failures and my moments of questioning. She would forgive me the nightmares, the terror, the suffering. She loved me. And I needed her. I needed her so badly.

     "Is there anything I can do?" Nan asked. "We've a healer here, should she require one. Anything you need, Mistress Leliana, simply ask."

     Leliana looked into my eyes, interpreting in that way peculiar to her, that way in which she could read my thoughts, that I wished, very much, to be alone with her. However, the lips that trembled with worry as they looked at me looked to Nan with a confidant, calming smile.

     "Thank you, Nan, but I believe a good night's rest will be all that she needs. Please, do not over-work or worry yourself on our account."

     "I've worried for Salem since she came into this world." Nan fussed about the room and I felt as though I would scream from the pressure of holding myself together. "But I will take my leave. Good night, my dear."

     "Dream sweetly, Nan." I forced a smile as she patted my cheek, hating her frown as she felt the damp of my tears.

     She closed the door and Leliana flew to my side as I unclenched my iron restraint. My body began to shake uncontrollably as if from a terrible chill, even though I and the room were warm. My lover's arms wrapped around me, the strength she always exuded flowing over me in comforting waves. 

    "Salem, darling, what can I do?" she whispered, knowing with an intimacy the horror that lived in my eyes. 

     She had felt it herself; known it herself in Howe's dungeons. We both possessed our own private hells, and she understood mine as I understood hers. 

     "Silence the dead." I wept, feeling so very cold. I huddled against her for warmth. "Make them be quiet. They're...they're screaming at me, Leliana. I can hear them, asking me why, begging for help, bleeding while I run...while I run away."

     My bard pulled the down quilt from atop the bed and wrapped it around me, joining me under it as I continued to shiver with chill and pain. Her hand stroked through my hair in a soothing rhythm as she did nothing but breathe with me, granting me my own time to speak, my own time to sort through the images in my head. 

     "There's blood everywhere." I closed my eyes but the visions remained. "It's all over my hands. I failed them all...I should have stayed...why did I not stay? I could have been victorious, Leliana, I could have killed Howe's men. I could have saved my people; could have saved them... _why_ did I  _leave?_ "

     She pressed her lips to my forehead and the motion of her hand through my hair and the motion of her opposite hand rubbing my back caused the violent shudders racking me to fade into subtle tremors. 

     "Because someone had to save the rest of us." she whispered the harsh, uncomforting truth. "Someone had to save Thedas."

     I felt physically ill as she laid bare the cruelty of fate with those few words. I had slain the archdemon. I had saved Ferelden and Thedas. Had I not escaped with Duncan; had I not fled the battleground of my home, I would most certainly have died. But the blood of my loved ones and my people was the cost...too high a price to pay. Too heavy a burden to carry. 

     "It  _hurts_." I allowed myself to be weak, to feel every bladed emotion ripping across my soul. "I had to come back to my home, but Maker's blood...it  _fucking **hurts.** "_ 

     "I know, my love." Leliana whispered and I knew that she did, in truth, understand.

     "Leli..."

     "Hush." she placed a gentle finger across my lips. "You do not have to be the fearless warden; you need not project the face of Ferelden's hero. Be my lover. Be Salem, and be human. Cry your tears, express your anguish. Weep now for all those days you coudl not. Let me care for you."

     Mute, I nodded. I felt so tired, exhausted to the point where I would actually relinquish my cares and worries to her for a night. Where I would allow her to take my nightmares. I had not done so before, not because she could not endure it...but because I had not known how. She had taught me, however. She had taught me and she had saved my life. 

     She pulled my shirt off and frowned. "Your skin is ice." she ran her blessedly warn hands up and down my arms. "I do believe we should take advantage of that hot bath. You did promise me, you know."

     I coughed out a weak, thready laugh and Leliana wrapped her arm around my waist. I hissed as her touch against my scars sent shockwaves of remembered pain through me. I would survive this...somehow. 

      _I will survive this because of her._

     "I'm sorry." she whispered as she heped me to my feet, compensating for my weak right leg as she led me into the washroom. 

     Gentle, mindful of my scars, she divested me of the rest of my clothing and hastily undressed herself. With great care, she guided me into the steaming water and though my skin began to warm, I still felt a cavern of ice deep within my spirit, a ravenous, angry monster ready to be unleashed inside my mind. To eat me alive and destroy me with my own thoughts and memories. 

     Through all of this, Leliana said nothing. Instead, perfect and beautiful, she held me in the water as my shivering eased. And for once, I said nothing. I laid my head against her shoulder and I wept; naked, vulnerable, and, at long last, human. 


	46. Comfort in the Dark

**Leliana**

    I sat on the edge of the bed, idly stroking my fingers through Salem's hair. After our bath, Salem had sworn to me that she was all right, that she could walk under her own power. I had trusted her, but after three steps from the wash-room, her knees had buckled. I had run to her side, knelt, placed my hand on her right leg and felt the muscles, damaged permanently by the archdemon, spasming beneath her skin with such ferocity that it shocked me that she had made it those few steps. 

      _She will have to live with such things for the rest of her life,_ I frowned.  _Even though she did not admit it, muscle spasms **that** fierce are  **excruciating.**_

I had propped her up and helped her the rest of the way to the bed, drawing the covers over her, wishing that she would have accepted something to mitigate the pain, but she refused. I had done what I could to soothe her until she fell asleep. Now she slept, fitful, muttering strings of incoherent words, curling into herself and jerking every now and again as though she were being beaten. Even though I knew she was awash in nightmares, I did not have the heart to wake her. 

      _Some demons cannot be fought in the waking world and the more they are suppressed, the stronger they become. I should know. I have lived through this...I have lived through this and I had no one to turn to. I will not let that happen to her._

     Salem began shivering and I rose, yawning, desperate for sleep though I did not dare give into it. The woman I loved was too important to me. She had been there for me unending time upon time upon time. I loved her and I knew, intimately, that there were few things more terrible than waking from nightmares alone. 

      _Salem would never wake me, no matter the horror that she emerged from. I have seen it too many times during our journeys together. So many nights she would take an extra watch, knowing the weariness that weighed on all of us. And though she did not speak of it, I knew of her constant headaches; I saw the dark circles beneath her eyes threatening to swallow her whole._

     I added more wood to the fire and returned to my vigil, tucking the covers tighter around her as she shivered. I wanted to share my heat with her, to pull her body alongside mine, but I was also unwilling to do so. The moment i lay down, I would succumb to slumber, and I could not bear the thought of her waking, drenched in sweat and tears, and refusing to disturb me...suffering in silence and alone. 

      _You no longer need to be so strong, my love. Let me be here for you. Please._

     A soft knock came at the door and I walked to it, easing it open. Nan stood there with a tray that held two steaming bowls of stew, hunks of bread, and a cheese. My mouth watered at the smell of it, and my stomach growled as it remembered what hunger was. 

     "Please, come in." I spoke in a whisper, inclining my head towards the bed, signaling that Salem slept. 

     Nan nodded and entered with steps as silent as a cat's. She walked to the far corner of the room and set the tray down on the table. I accompanied her, yawning yet again. Nan appraised the room, setting her hands on her hips, frowning as she saw Salem stir restlessly beneath the sheets and moan, tossing her head on the pillow as though lost in fever delirium. 

     "Is she well?" the family servant turned to me, the deep lines in her skin softened with worry, with compassion...true caring. 

     I felt compelled to honesty by the woman's sharp, kind eyes, and I sighed. "Returning here has been...a trial for her spirit. She feels responsible for her mother and father's death and what you all had to endure after Howe's treachery. This is all...all compounded by the grievous injuries sustained at Fort Drakon. She will never..." my voice caught with emotion and grief, "...she will never fully recover, and might never know a day without...without pain."

     Nan shook her head, her eyes filled with grief, but she chuckled softly. "That blighted girl." I watched in shock as the elderly servant wiped a stray tear from her eye. "She goes out and saves the damn world and it still is not enough. Oh, she is made in Bryce's image, that one. Always willing to see the good in people, go out o fher way for them, and expect nothing in return. She is too hard on herself." Nan frowned. "Always was. Never willing to let a simple triumph be enough; had to go and find  _one_ flaw and focus entirely on it until she worked out how to fix it. You cannot fix time, though. You cannot change the past. My poor child."

     Uncaring if I appeared rude, I began to eat as I mulled over Nan's words, finding them regrettably true. 

     "I have never met anyone like her." I admitted as Nan pulled out another chair from the table and sat down. "She speaks so highly of all of you...and I can see where she learned her kindness."

     Nan placed her hand over her mouth and laughed quietly, so as not to disturb my warden's rest. "Oh, you are sweet  _and_ deluded." she smiled. "I am a terror. I run my kitchens and this house with an iron fist, and well everyone knows it. Never fooled her though." Nan smiled at fond memories. "The little hoyden would run amuck in my kitchens and the instant I took to scolding her she'd smile like a saint, wrap her arms around my legs, and tell me she knew I wasn't  _truly_ angry. and after that who  _could_ be? Ah well." Nan's eyes misted over again as they withdrew from the past. "She grew up too soon. Bryce's constant joy and Eleanor's constant trial."

     I smiled, imagining Salem as a child, always smiling, blue eyes alight with mischief. I wondered just how many new things I would learn about my warden, how many new ways I would learn to see her. I looked forward to the discoveries, knowing that, no matter what I found, I could only love her all the more for it. 

     "I grew up amongst Orlesian nobility." I shared a piece of my own past. "Rich blood, long histories of rule, all things that Ferelden lacks. And yet, I never met a single one of them able to match Salem. The things I saw her do, Nan,"  _slaying a dragon blind, forgiving an assassin, fighting for those she had never met as though they were her own blood kin...submitting to torture so that I would be spared,_ "they are beyond the realm of human comprehension. And nothing any noble I have ever known would do... _could_ do."

     Another soft laugh for that. "I knew she was destined for greatness. A Grey Warden though. You will forgive my morbid take on things if I say I'm grateful Eleanor Cousland isn't alive to witness that tragedy."

     A sudden, surprising wave of grief washed through me at the woman's blunt words. "So...you know then?" I asked. "The warden's fate?"

     "I am old, child, not mindless." she replied, though not harsh. "I've heard things about the Grey. And you've just confirmed them." She scrutinized me then, the exhaustion evident on my face, the beginnings of tears in my eyes. "You love her, Mistress Leliana, don't you?"

     The elderly woman was so serious, staring through my eyes and into my soul, demanding nothing less than absolute truth. "With every fiber of my being." I swore. 

     "Then you take care of my girl." she sniffed, patting the table twice with her palm as though it were a judge's gavel, and this a solemn order. "Understand?"

     "I do." I nodded. 

     "Good." she rose from her chair and busied herself with the tray. "Then start with taking care of yourself.  _You need_   ** _rest._** _"_ **  
**

     "I cannot, I..." a yawn broke the sentence and I cursed under my breath. 

     "Pffffft." Nan blew air through her teeth and shook her head. "Salem is as stubborn as the day is long, and I refuse to have two such beings under my roof. Off to bed with you."

     "Yes, Nan." I smiled at the woman who reminded me so much of Wynne. 

      _It is little wonder that Salem accepted the mage so easily._

     "That's more like it." she smiled and slipped from the room as silently as she had entered. 

     I eased out of my chair and stretched my aching muscles, wearied by days of riding and sleeping on the ground. I walked to the bed and slipped under the covers, wrapping my arm around Salem's waist. Her slight shivering immediately ceased and my heart warmed, grateful that I could bring her even a little of the comfort she had given me. 

     "I love you, Salem." I whispered in her ear. "It will be easier in the morning. I promise." 


	47. The Secrets that Threaten to Sunder

**Salem**

    I opened my eyes as light peered in the window. My hands cast about, searching for my swords. Instead, I felt the soft down of the mattress I lay upon, the silk-smooth of sheets. Instead of the chill wind blowing through the grasses and the racousness of the morning birdsong I heard a fire crackling in the hearth, and felt the warmth of the walls protecting me from the elements. 

     I sat up, feeling weak, my body quivering as though I had just awakened from a fever. I pinched the bridge of my nose, waiting for the gentle, eternal throb of pain between my temples. It did not come. Amazed, in awe, I savored the moment free from the headache that had plauged me since waking in Flemeth's hut after the battle at Ostagar. 

     I lay back against the pillows with a slight smile on my face. It faded as the memories of the terror I had woken from washed over me again. 

      _So this is my reward,_ I pinched my eyes shut and laughed at the butchery of the world.  _The physical pain has ended but the emotional torture has yet to begin. I can scarcely imagine how it will weigh on me when I see the future that my choices built. It was not enough to be the warden; to end the Blight. For the briefest of moments, I stood before the courts of all races in Ferelden...and I was their queen._

      _I, who saved Ferelden, may also become her undoing...should the years be unkind._

     A soft noise woke me from my reverie and I smiled as I turned over, watching Leliana as she slept. Her lips were parted, the lines on her face smoothed with the innocence of slumber. Her red hair, normally all in place, impeccably styled, was tousled and in her face. 

     I tucked the wayward strands behind her ear, resting my palm on her cheek, savoring the warmth of her skin. I leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against her lips, smiling as her arm lazily wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer. 

     "Good morning, my love." she spoke, her accent thick. 

     "I could very easily become accustomed to this as well." I told her, letting the joy of her presence, the peace I felt at her touch, wash away the fear and the guilt and the anger of last night. 

     It would not fade completely...such nightmares never did. 

      _You said time,_ I lay against Leliana, content to be comfortable,  _a great deal of time would be required for healing. At **last** , I have that time...and you._ 

     "Are you all right?" Leliana pulled away, moving her eyes to mind, her face a study in compassion and concern. 

     "No." I told her the truth. There was no more need to pretend that I possessed strength. I did not have to wear a mask, and for that I could never show enough gratitude. "But I will be. I swear it."

     Leliana ran her fingertips along my arm, tracing the sworls of scarring embedded in my skin. "You continue to be so endlessly strong. Tell me all of your secrets, my warden. I wish to know them."

     "I have one who does not fault me when I break apart in her arms." I traced the outline of her jaw. "She is beautiful, and so  _unbelievably strong_ that I feel safe whenever I am near her. She can revive faith where it has been lost, instill hope when it has fled, and convince the hardest heart that love, does indeed, conquer all."

     Leliana's wide blue eyes shot around the room and she whispered, close to my ear, conspiratorial, "Are we safe here? What will she do if she finds me in your bed?"

     I threw the covers over our heads, savoring the charade as I covered her body with my own. "Curses!" I hissed, running my teeth across the shell of her ear, "I had not thought that far ahead. I tremble to imagine the scope of her fury...for  _you_ , dear heart, are much,  _much_ more beautiful."

     "Get your hands off of me this instant!" she shouted, throwing me off of her in a dexterous, artful move. The covers flew away and she glowered at me with laughing eyes. "I will not  _countenance_ sharin ga bed with a woman who would forsake one of such  _laudable_ traits for such a fleeting thing as beauty."

     "Then I am truly blessed," I reached for her hand and grasped it, "that she is away, and we will not be caught."

     Leliana stared at me, shocked. "Wench!" she shouted at last, grasping a pillow and hitting me square across the face with it. 

     I fell off balance and off of the bed, onto the stone floor, laughing hysterically as I collided with Leliana's satchel, spilling its contents onto the ground. 

     "Salem!" Leliana leaned over the edge of the bed, eyes dancing with mirth, her hair a tangled mess. "Are you all right?"

     I pushed myself against the wall and groaned over-dramatically. "I... _Maker's breath..._ something is...broken."

     "Salem." aggravation. 

     "Salem?" concern. 

      _"Salem!?"_ _  
_

Leliana flew off of the bed and too my side, cupping my face with her hands, turning my eyes to hers, worry evident on her face.

      I grinned. "Yes?"

     Her hand flashed out and slapped me across the face. "I am  _not_ amused! After everything we have been through and you do... _this_!?"

     She turned, an angered set to her shoulders, and occupied herself with repacking the belongings that had spilled out. 

      _Damn it,_ I cursed myself, rubbing the sting from my cheek.  _I have overplayed this._

     "Leliana," I reached for her, a knife piercing my heart as I saw tears on her face, "forgive me. I did not think; I would never intentionally cause you pain. I am just...so at ease. So in love with you.  _So **happy**."_  

     Leliana turned and flung herself against me. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close against my body, pressing my lips against her hair. 

     "Do not. Ever." she warned. "Frighten. Me. Like. That.  _Again._ " 

     "I promise." I took an oath. "You are too good to me, dear heart. So endlessly forgiving and kind. How do you do it?"

     She caught my eyes and smiled. "I had a sterling example, my love. I did not truly know what forgiveness  _was_ until I met you. Oh, the Chantry has their definition, rote lines about disregarding vengeance and letting go of sorrows...all so clinical and painless. But you..."

     "I still make grievous mistakes, my love." I pressed my forehead against hers, inhaling her scent, and the moment. 

     "Nothing that a kiss cannot remedy." the playful light re-emerged in her eyes and she caught my lips with delightful fervor. 

     I returned her kiss and felt as though all might truly be well, from now into the future.  _This will last. Life will go on. I will be happy and my wounds will heal. Hers as well. Time will set all things right._ _  
_

Leliana pulled away and rose, lifting her satchel and heading towards the washroom. A piece of folded parchment fell from her satchel and I caught it.

     "Dear heart," I extended it out to her, "this fell."

     She turned to see what I held in my hand and the blood drained from her face. My heart began to beat faster as I saw the broken seal...the star of the Chantry pressed in wax.


	48. Choosing to Love

**Leliana**

     _Maker's **blood-soaked** breath. Not this. Not now. why? Why? We were happy...we were  **happy**...we were... _

     The air compressed around my throat. I could not speak; could not reach for the parchment that Salem held out in front of me, more threatening than if she had held a blade. She lowered her arm and absorbed me with her eyes, my bloodless countenance, trembling hands, shallow breaths. 

     "I suppose there are still some secrets between us then." she said, setting the letter aside on the table, her voice careful and control. "Find me when you are finished preparing for the day." she started for the door. 

     "Salem...read it." I gasped out, past the tension threatening to choke me, past the fear in my heart. 

      _This was inevitable. Maker, how I wish it could have come from my lips, gentle, followed by promises and reassurances...but I am not certain that I have such things to give her._

     "What?" she turned to me, flicking her eyes to the letter, asking for permission, because, even though I could see anger and hurt in her gaze, she still showed me love in the one way she knew. 

     Nobility. Patience. Kindness. Unending, unending kindness. 

     "Please read it." I begged her, unable to move, rooted to the ground where I stood, like a fox besieged by the hounds of war. 

     Salem's scarred hand reached for the letter, and she opened it. I watched her eyes as they scanned the words...watched as gates and bars slammed shut, as the loveliness of her open heart and healing soul vanished. When she raised her gaze to mine once more...my Salem, my heart, was no longer there. Warden Cousland stood before me, the scars in her eyes screaming as though they were open wounds, swallowing her alive. 

     "A summons from Divine Beatrix herself?" she asked, terse. "And a royal pardon from Empress Celene?"

     I nodded, shivering at the cloak of gentility that masked the flames inside her words. 

     Salem set the letter aside as though it no longer mattered, as though it were not a living, breathing dagger rammed into both of our guts by a phantom hand. 

     "When did you receive this, Leliana?"

     "In Redcliffe." I answered. "The night before we marched to Denerim. I wished t otell you, Salem, truly, I did, but the final battle came upon us and it never seemed to be the proper time..."

     I did not understand the bitter smile that crossed my lover's features. I did not understand the harsh laughter that brayed between her lips. My heart broke when her laughter turned into tears, from tears into shuddering, racking, violently silent sobs. She collapsed into a chair and heaved an aggrieved sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. I hated knowing her so well...knowing that the constant pain in her head had returned with vengeful fury...because of me. 

     I tensed, bracing my shoulders for the wrath soon to come; her justifiable anger that I had kept this important, this dark, this potentially earth-shattering secret from her. She had given me everything, and I had betrayed her by omission. No matter how I attempted to move beyond my past, beyond the woman I had been, small things like this continued to drag me back. I wondered when she would hate me, when she would blame me, when we would fall apart after we had come so  _close_ to pure bliss. 

     I waited in the silence. Waited for her words, for the accusations, ready to accept the blame that  _belonged_ on my shoulders. 

     "I should have died." Salem spoke and the concrete belief in her voice chilled me to the bone. 

     "Salem, do not say such things." I entreated, frightened, terrified that she had hidden away her heart, concealed it behind a stronger fortress than the one that had existed when we first met. 

     I could not see her now. The scars in her eyes shielded me from glimpsing her beautiful, battered spirit. She had cut herself off from the world. I had seen the expression in her eyes before...when I had been chained in the dungeons of Val Royeaux, when the chevaliers came for a prisoner to lead them to the execution block. Salem's eyes were the eyes of a condemned man, begging for death because it would be kinder than living. 

     "Why should I not?" she asked. "It is the truth, is it not? Four Blights have come upon the world, and four wardens died to end them. This time, it was not so. And thus the balance of living is disrupted, and all is not as it should be, not as it was  _meant_."

      _Why does she say such things!? She fought so **hard** to live! Wynne told me that  **no one,** be they warden, mage, elf, dwarf, qunari...no living creature should have been able to survive the wounds the archdemon dealt...especially not one whose body had been so grievously punished during the preceeding year...especially not one as resistant to healing magic as Salem. _

     "Salem..."

     "No!" she shouted, rising from the chair with such force that it flew against the wall and splintered. " _This_ ," she lifted the letter and clenched it in her fist, " _this_ is all the proof I need. Destinies were set! Futures were put in place! And I...I've ruined it all.  _I should have **died**."_  

     " _Still your lying tongue!_ " I ordered, not wanting to hear those four words from between her lips ever again. " _What are you saying!?"_

     "The truth!" she roared, flinging the letter to the floor. "Every one of us,  _every blighted **one,**_ had something to return to! Somewhere to call home after the world ended! Everyone..." her voice softened, but she did not calm, "...but you. And I wanted you to have that...I wanted you to have that with me, and so I fought, and I compromised my soul, and I  _defied death and the gods only to find **that the Maker himself**_ wants you  _for his own!"_

     I was shaking fiercely now, as though my soul were wrapped in winter, as though I had swallowed glass and it was splintering and shredding through my veins. 

     "I did not know." my voice trembled, weak, like a child's. "Salem, I did not know. I thought...you thought...we all knew you were going to die. Telling you of this missive then would have only caused you more  _needless_ pain!"

     "Telling me  _then_ would have alleviated my  _ **last**_ fear! I have no place in this world!" Salem tossed up her hands, an expression on her face that I had never before seen. Defeat. "I have felt this...this  _wrongness_ in my existence since first I woke after killing the archdemon. It is only when I am with you that it vanishes. I see why this sense exists, now. I do not belong here. Not anymore. You have a greater calling; a mantle you were meant to take up after my death...a destiny too painful for me to bear while I am alive."

     "Salem, please..." I begged. 

      _Not this. Not again. Why? Why can you never fault me. Why can you not rail against me in anger? This...all of this is my fault. You lived for me...for a future that you did not know I could not give you. I am a lie...a lie that brought you back from death._

"Please what, Leliana?" she asked, sounding desperate. "Make it stop hurting? Make sense of the world? I cannot. I am awash in grief and surrounded by confusion and the only voicein my thoughts righ tnow is screaming one vicious, scathing truth. I.  _Should. **Be. DEAD!** "_ 

     " _Stop saying that!_ " I shrieked, shoving her against the wall and pinning her there with my trembling hands. " _Maker's **fucking** breath, Salem! I  **love** you! I..."_ my voice cracked and I collapsed against her, sobbing, "...love you."

     She pushed me off of her and sat down, burying her head in her hands as I leaned against the cold, unfeeling wall for support. I watched her, hating that her body sat in a position of abject despair. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her head back against the wall, her eyes staring at the ceiling. 

     "It is never enough, is it?" she asked, but her inquiry was not for my ears. She spoke to something far greater, crueler, and more vast than our comprehension. 

     She spoke to the hand that wrote Destiny, that spun the world in its unforgiving cycles. She spoke to the god that had failed us both...the god that had called me and given me a vision; the god that had condemned her to die. 

     "I gave you everything." she continued her heartbreaking prayer, tearing me apart with every word. "I gave you my family, and my blood, and I soaked the earth in violence to save the world you had forsaken! And my reward was meant to be death? Then...then... _why_ did you let me walk out of heaven? You let...you let me believe I had a future to return to...that you forgave me...that I could  _live_."

     She rose from the floor, weary, limping, in obvious physical and emotional torment. She pulled me against her in a fierce embrace and my heart gave out as I realized what she was doing. 

      _Holding me close...as she holds close all things she knows she will lose. Because Salem Cousland, at the end of the day, knows only one thing...she knows only...how to love._

     "We have seven days before the month is out." she whispered against my hair. "I will go with you to the coast and you can take a ship to Val Royeaux. If we ride hard, we should reach a port city in three days." She tilted my head back and placed her lips against my forhead in a fierce, protective kiss...but her lips were trembling, showing me the fragility she concealed so well. "I will tell the groom to prepare our horses."

      _I do not want this_. I searched her eyes, looking for anger, looking for wrath, for the rebellion against fate that had caused her to cling to life. It was not there. Her faith, her hope, had deserted her. It was my fault. And that broke me. 

      _I **never** wanted this,_ my thought shissed.  _From the moment I knew you survived killing that beast, I wanted nothing more than a life with you. Damn fate. Damn the Chantry. Damn the Divine. **Damn the Maker himself.**_

     "No." I stated, strong, emphatic. "No."

     I pulled out of her embrace and scooped the letter from the floor, glaring at it in disgust. 

     "Leliana, what are you doing?" Salem turned to me. 

     "That which you taught me." I tossed the letter into the fire, watching with great satisfaction as it burned to a crisp. "That which your strength, and your love, and your  _life_ have given me the ability to do. 

     I turned to my lover, my warden,  _my_ Salem, and I was triumphant. 

     "I am defying a god."


	49. Hope for the Future

**Salem**

     _Why did she do that? Does she not realize the cost? How could she not? She has seen me, torn and battered and bleeding, near death, the price of defying a mad, ruthless god. While silent, the Maker is not...not unkind. Leliana... **why** would you put yourself in danger? _

     I watched the letter burn, aghast, upset...and yet relieved. Relieved that she had chosen me, relieved that my life did indeed still have some purpose. I had not lied to her. I could not. I  _had_ felt a void in my soul; a nagging voice ever present with the constant headache, an insidious whisper... _something so damaged does not belong in a world made whole. You have nothing more to give._

     "Leliana." I whispered, eyes fixed on charred parchment that not moments ago had threatened to strip away my reason for existence. "Do you realize what you have done?"

     "Yes." she nodded her head, a cold blue steel in her eyes, a light in them that I had never seen. "You love me, Salem." she walked to me and took my hands in her own, staring up into my eyes, begging me to drop the fortress I had erected around my heart when I read those bitter, bitter words, signed by the hand of the most powerful person in Thedas. 

     "But this..."

     She pressed a finger to my lips. "You  _love_ me." she smiled and tears welled in her eyes. "You have been  _tortured_ for me. You have  _died_ for me and...you walked outof heaven... _for_ _ **me.** " _wonder colored her voice and she gazed at me as though mystified. "The Divine is but a woman who believes she speaks for the Maker. She recites the words of the Chant of Light and bestows blessings and guidance upon the people, trying to bolster a fading, fragile faith in a mercilessly silent god. She wraps the mages in chains and disregards the treatment of the elves and...and that is  _not,_ in any manner of perception, divine." **  
**

I stood there, completely bewildered. The Leliana I had met in Lothering, the woman who had first ensnared my heart, had spoken of the Chantry and the Maker with complete, unshakeable faith. She had vilified Morrigan for her apostasy, praised Alistair for her templar roots...and at some point, some point that had slipped past my noticing...that had changed. _She_ had changed. She had gentled, she had become kinder, more understanding. 

      _But...why? How? Her faith was so absolute, so impervious. What changed, dear heart?_

     She moved her hands to my hips and gazed at me, reading my thoughts as she alone could. 

     "I know every legend and story." she told me. "I lived by the gospel that Andraste preached; I reviled that which she reviled, loved that which she loved...and then I saw you. You were not strong," she spoke the truth as she had seen it, and I did not challenge her. I could not. "You were broken inside...something snapped and mutilated almost beyond repair...a shattered soul. But I saw in you something I thought lost to the world, something that not even Andraste could comprehend in its full measure."

     "What..." I trembled, not knowing what she would reveal, "...what did you see?"

     "Love." she answered, a light in her eyes that transcended and outstripped the sun. "Andraste marched on the Tevinter Imperium full of righteous fury, bristling with anger and fury at the injustices that magic had wrought upon her world. Innocents perish in wars, Salem...and the Exalted March left many slaughtered in its wake. The Maker may have taken her for his bride, but Andraste had no concept of that which defines  _you_. She died because she devoted herself to a cause of wrath, and a man who could not bear that her love for him had departed betrayed her and had her burned. I believe now, Salem, I believe that, had the Maker's bride loved her Maker as much as he loved her, she  _would_ have survived. The flames would not have touched her skin. She would have been a messiah, not a martyr."

     "When did you become so blasphemous?" I asked, smiling, running my fingers through a lock of her hair. 

     "When I met a woman who could do nothing  _but_ love." she walked into my arms and laid her head against my chest, sighing with contentment. "I have seen you angered; I have seen you wrathful; I have seen you hurt and suffering and given over to depraved revenge. And each time you calmed, you walked away, you did not completely surrender. Because you love...you break every chain you are able to, and when you cannot break them, you wear them in the place of those whom they once bound."

     "You are describing someone who is perfect." I shook my head, though tears of my own stained my cheeks. "I could never hope to achieve that definition."

     "In my eyes," she held me tighter, "you are all of that, and more." She leaned back and forced my eyes to hers, wanting me to see the absolute, unblemished honesty in them. "The Divine would have all the world believe that the Maker is silent; that he has abandoned this world until our faith bids him return. But that, as are so many things the Chantry spouts, is a lie."

     "You cannot know that." I said, frightened of her belief in me...terrified at the enormity of her love. and yet...peace filled my heart. I was not afraid. 

     "I can and I do. The Maker is  _not_ silent, Salem." her eyes grew hopeful and her face shone with a golden, radiant light. "He spoke to me...sent me a vision...sent me to  _you_. So that I might know he is still alive...that his will, his  _true_ will lives in actions such as yours. You told me once, after you had reached the Urn of Sacred Ashes, that you had touched the face of god."

     "I did." I remembered that moment, fraught with emotion, turmoil, and unspeakable pain. 

     "Well," she gave me a sly smile, "not to cheapen your experience, but mind has been much more profound. I have walked hand in hand, slept alongside, fought alongside, shed tears with, kissed, and made love to someone who is truly divine."

     I laughed at that, though I did not doubt she believed every word she spoke. And I loved her for it. Though I could not accept her definition of me for myself, though I would never see the reflection in the mirror she held before me, I would not attempt to dissuade her beliefs. Her faith made her beautiful; made her impossibly strong. Her faith had ended the Fifth Blight and brought me back from death. 

     "Why do you laugh?" she asked, her eyebrow raised askance. 

     "I am simply picturing a god with tainted blood." I answered, wrapping my arms about her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips as I lifted her from the ground and twirled her around. 

     I settled her back to the floor and buried my face against her neck. "Thank you." I breathed a prayer of gratitude to my own living, breathing goddess. "Thank you for loving me...for choosing me...for  _wanting_ me."

     She stepped back and the tears were gone from both of our eyes, replaced by light, by hope. I knew, in the back of my mind, that the Chantry did not let go of what it claimed for its own. Leliana knew this as well. But we had until then...and both of us knew better than to snatch tomorrow's troubles and drag them into the present. Such things would keep. Such things could wait. 

      _There will be **time.**_

     "I want but one thing more." Leliana guided me to a chair, set me down, knelt before me and looked at me with longing eyes. 

     "Name it." I cupped her cheek with my palm, not minding, for the first time, the scars that would forever mar my hand. 

     "I want to be your wife, Salem Cousland." she reached up and took my hands. "I want to be wedded as soon as possible, and for the sake of my urgency I am willing to make a great deal of concessions, save one."

     "Very well."

     "I simply  _must_ have the proper  _shoes._ "

     I replied with the only words I could. "Dearest heart...as you say."


End file.
